



































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































cK *• s' cs'J 

A „ . a \V 

’ >",%/****' ' / V, V,o‘' '<0 %# V f ? »o’ 4 /'\ ao % 

V v , 'i a'* - aV ~■ 'jetiBkl'r 


%, wc 5c- 


4 A* «^fes'. *' 


-s 4 


•• **> V c-.. v^v A ..'.."^'" v ''>!-‘. V' --VV 

~ . ■' . \ ^£. v* 








cy" s'** ',, *£• \. ***"' 


* * oo' 

o. *, N „> .y v ^ 

' io« ':■ -a'. •’••'• 

& , * ,^ v 

<r ♦/♦.s' /v 

A' o ' 




•v, s^ 

° « 4-' - - / - > 



fU * cX^<V * ”V<» ^ 

^ s -'." -4 ' -*■ 

-, _ \ .- -f>, 

O O' 

O' 'rp j. Yj\ V ' - 

^ * V, . * > « 




.-vf -' i>. . /• /. 







V * ' * 'V 




*m' > * •> n o ' \fr N 






0< *#■' v: * . . * %, aX 

W 

0o* 

5 c b y , y • +* •-.■•■ > .o° 

















. ' ' ”•' J ‘ oV 


o> 

.V* * 


\* ^ * ^/^isr * 

Y» 0 • l'*\f 0 ' *.., ''*?*' * 9 M 

* ' 0 /• > , 0 ^ ' 7 f, *Ci 

* e .y * ' * 


y ^ t 

VW.* - '^- J ; <rV^ / * %H;:-;V'* ^ - 1 

.0 o 









“' A> *'•'«* ’fe, A u 

? y ° 

^ V*' *br$ 




■ J * 


C*V ■* 









*>. * » I ' * ' s^' . » , * ••> K 0 

^ S S«. ' 
























A 






A. ,/» 
c- ,\V J ,/> 













r\v C B *, 4 











s A y o * V 

\ -i- jt> >- * 


















v afmss * 



I . V *- 

* <V' ^ * 



A ' at" - V ' ■?. 













*T> 






























. 1 * 






















THE SUCCESS LIBRARY 


The failures of others are warnings to 
their successes are our sure guides 


« Look thou Character » 






I 



ZO°r* S-' f90 Sr SV‘CC£SS CVMPA.Hr 









THE 

SUCCESS 

1 

11 

LIBRARY 

T 


DR. ORISON SWETT MARDEN 

u 

EDITOR-IN-CHIEF 

GEORGE RAYWOOD DEVITT, M. A. 

MANAGING EDITOR 

THIRTY VOLUMES 

VOLUME ONE 

CONCRETE EXAMPLES OF SUCCESSFUL MEN, INCLUDING CAUSE AND 
EFFECT OF SUCCESS. DEDUCTION OF RULES FOR SUCCEEDING 
BY COMPARISON AND CONTRAST OF METHODS PURSUED 
AND RESULTS ATTAINED IN NUMEROUS CAREERS 



« Example is the school of mankind , and they will learn at no other * 

Burke : letters on a Regicide Peace 

“ Children have more need of models than of critics » 

Joubert: Pensees 

"Lives of great men all remind us 
ICe can make our lives sublime , 

And, departing , leave behind us 
Footprints on the sands of time.''' 

Uongfellow : Psalm of I,ife. 

“ One thing is forever good; 

That one thing is Success." 

Emerson: Fate. 


NEW YORK 

THE SUCCESS COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS 



>, > >> > 


j > 




























FVE fc 
•Oh -V 


THE LIBRARY OF 
CONGRESS, 
Two Cohies Received 


JAN. 15 1902 


COPVNIQMT ENTRY 


A.M}. /_ /(fC / 

CLASS CO XXa No. 

7 0 / !_£> 

copy a. 


Copyright, iqoi, 


by 


THE SUCCESS COMPANY 


All Rights Rtserved 


< < 

« < 
« C < 


c c t *t C c 

t ( c < C 


( ( c c 

c c c < c t 



« < < r 

c c c c < < 


C < r< C 


( c c 


< c < c 
< < c 

< ( ( < 


C ( 


c c c 
• c « 


c e c 


‘ r < 





EDITORIAL STAFF 


ORISON SWETT HARDEN 

Editor-in-Chief. 

GEORGE RAY WOOD DEVITT, M. A. 

Managing Editor 


ASSOCIATE EDITORS 

MARION FOSTER WASHBURNE CHARLES G. D, ROBERTS, M. A. 

ELISABETH SYLVESTER 
ELSA BARKER WILBUR FISK HINMAN 

JASON E. HAMMOND ERNEST SETON-THOMPSON 

DANIEL BATCHELLOR 

ANNA McCLURE SHOLL MRS. THEODORE W. BIRNEY 




VI 


LIST OF CONTRIBUTORS 


« They give us their best from the fullness of their lives 


REV. THOMAS ROBERT SLICER 
CHARLES FREDERICK WINGATE 
DR. FELIX LEOPOLD OSWALD 

Recorder Equitable Eife Assurance Company 

SAMUEL FROST 

ARTHUR TWINING HADLEY 

President Yale College 

DAVID STARR JORDAN 

President Iceland Stanford Jr. University 

CHARLES FRANKLIN THWING 

President Western Reserve University 

HAMILTON WRIGHT MABIE, 
LL.D. 

RANDOLPH GUGGENHEIMER 
HENRY MORTON 

President Stevens Institute of Technology 

REV. DR. F. C. IGLEHART 
HEZEKIAH BUTTERWORTH 

Editor Youth's Companion 

SAMUEL SILAS CURRY 

President School of Expression, Boston 

EDWARD EVERETT HALE 
REV. ROBERT COLLYER 
CHARLES M. SCHWAB 
BISHOP JOHN F. HURST 
REV. DAVID JAMES BURRELL 
NEWELL DWIGHT HILLIS 
REV. FRANK W. GUNSAULUS 
REV. M. SOLLEY 

St. Patrick's Church, Newburgh, N. Y. 

DR. CHARLES D.~ McIVOR 

President N. C. State Normal School 

HENRY MITCHELL MacCRACKEN 

Chancellor New York University 

GEORGE FREDERICK SHRADY, 
M.D. 

WILLIAM TOD HELMUTH, M.D. 


DR. JOHN I. HART 

President N. Y. State Dental Association 

FREDERICK RENE COUDERT 
GENERAL BENJAMIN FRANKLIN 
TRACY 

PROFESSOR ISAAC FRANKLIN 
RUSSELL 
ALLAN FORMAN 

Editor of “ The Journalist ” 

HENRY WATTERSON 
WILLIAM D. HOWELLS 
ANTHONY HOPE 
EDGAR FAWCETT 
JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY 
BERTHA RUNKLE 
EDWIN MARKHAM 
CHARLES WESLEY EMERSON 

President Emerson College of Oratory 

WILLIAM MERRITT CHASE 

PROFESSOR DANIEL BATCH- 
ELLOR 

JOHN GALEN HOWARD 

Architect of the University of California 

CONSTANT COQUELIN 
RICHARD MANSFIELD 
MINNIE MADDERN FISKE 
JULIA MARLOWE 
JOHN FISKE 
THEODORE ROOSEVELT 
BENJAMIN B. ODELL, Jr. 

Governor of New York State 

EX-SPEAKER GALUSHA AARON 
GROW 

SENATOR JOSEPH BENSON FOR- 
AKER 







LIST OF CONTRIBUTORS 


BENJAMIN F. JONES 
JOHN ROBERT PROCTOR 

President of the U. S. Civil Service Commission 

ADMIRAL SCHLEY 
LIEUTENANT-GENERAL MILES 
GEORGE W. McCLUSKY 

Chief of Detectives, N. Y. 

WILLIAM M. WELCH 

DR. T. C. MARTIN 

PARK BENJAMIN 

THOMAS A. EDISON 

HUDSON MAXIM 

CHARLES C. BAYLIS 

CARROLL DAVIDSON WRIGHT 

U. S. Commissioner of Labor 

JAMES B. REYNOLDS 
REV. A. P. DOYLE 

SECRETARY CHARLES D. WIL¬ 
SON 

CHARLES F. HEXAMER 

Editor of * The American Agriculturist “ 

ISAAC PHILLIPS ROBERTS 

Director College of Agriculture and of the U. 
S. Experimental Station, Cornell Univer¬ 
sity 

HENRY SABIN 

WILLIAM FLETCHER KING 

President Cornell College, la. 

CHARLES RANLETT FLINT 
JOHN GREENE 

Editor Bradstreet 

CLEMENT C. GAINES 
E. P. HATCH 

Of Lord & Taylor’s 

NATHAN STRAUSS 

Of R. H. Macy & Co. 

MILES M. O’BRIEN 

Representative of H. B. Claflin & Co. 

LYMAN JUDSON GAGE 

Secretary Treasury United States 

GEORGE WALTON WILLIAMS 
GAGE E. TARBELL 

Second Vice-president Equitable Life Assur- 
rance Company 

HENRY CLEWS 
JAMES J. HILL 

• ALEXANDER JOHNSON CASSATT 
WILLIAM M. GARRETT 


vii 

REBECCA HARDING DAVIS 
ELIZABETH CADY STANTON 
JENNIE JUNE CROLY 
ELLA WHEELER WILCOX 
MRS. EDWIN MARKHAM 
BELVA ANN BENNETT LOCK- 
WOOD 

ELLA A. BLACK 

HARRIET PRESCOTT SPOFFORD 
MAY WRIGHT SEWELL 
MRS. CHARLES WARREN FAIR¬ 
BANKS 

WILBUR F. JACKMAN 

Professor of Natural Science, Blaine School, 
University of Chicago 

J. MERLE COULTER 

Professor of Botany, Chicago University 

MILTON UPDEGRAFF 

U. S. Naval Observatory 

BAXTER MORTON, M.D. 

U. S. Patent Office 

CHARLES F. JOHNSON 
JULES GUTHRIDGE 
CHARLES A. CONANT 

Special Commissioner Finance to Philippines, 
New York Journal of Commerce 

CHARLES F. BENJAMIN 
G. STANLEY HALL, LL.D. 

President Clark University, Worcester 

JESSE WALTER FEWKES 

Bureau of Ethnology, U. S. 

CARL HENRY ANDREW BJERRE- 
GAARD 

Librarian, The Astor Library, N. Y. 

CHARLES JOHNSTON 
BLISS CARMAN 

Author — Poet 

EPIPHANIUS WILSON 
MRS. GEORGE NASH 
MARION FOSTER WASHBURNE 
NORMAN FOSTER, M.D. 

KATE BLAKE 

JOHN H. McCORMICK, M.D. 

MRS. THEODORE W. BIRNEY 
ELIZA MOSHER, M.D. 

Professor Hygiene Department and Women’s 
Dean, University of Michigan 


Vlll 


LIST OF CONTRIBUTORS 


ORISON SWETT HARDEN 

D. F. St. CLAIR 

LIDA A. CHURCHILL 

REV. EDWARD PAYSON TENNEY 

ARTHUR W. BROWN 

MARGARET CONNOLLY 

ERNEST W. HOLMES 

REV. W. J. TILLEY 

ERNEST SETON-THOMPSON 

FRANK ROE BATCHELDER 

JASON E. HAMMOND 

Superintendent of Education Michigan 

ARTHUR F. WILLISTON 

Director of Science and Technology, Pratt In¬ 
stitute 

REV. WILLIAM STEPHEN RAINS- 
FORD 

REV. CHARLES H. EATON 
MILES O’BRIEN 

Chairman Board of Education, New York 

MARY F. PEABODY 
CHARLES G. D. ROBERTS 

Author — Poet 

JULIA WARD HOWE 
ELIZABETH CADY STANTON 
MRS. FRANK LESLIE 
HENRIETTE HOVEY 

Pupil and for some time assistant of the cele¬ 
brated Gustave Delsarte 

MAY ELIZABETH WILSON SHER¬ 
WOOD 

WILLIAM S. HILLS 

Secretary of Gymnasium, Columbia College 

MRS. RUSSELL SAGE 
WILLIAM ORDWAY PARTRIDGE 

Sculptor — Author 

LESLEY GLENDOWER PEABODY 
JAMES GIBBONS HUNEKER 

Author — Music Critic with New York Musical 
Courier 

LOUIS CHARLES ELSON 

Professor N. E. Conservatory of Music 

ABBEY PERKINS CHENEY 
WILLIAM JAMES HENDERSON 

Musical Critic — Author 

WILLIAM SMITH BABCOCK 
MATHEWS 

Editor of * Music,” Musical Writer 


HUGH ARCHIBALD CLARKE 

Professor of Music at University of Pennsyl¬ 
vania 

MARY FANTON 

Editor “ New Ideas " (Magazine) 

ANNA McCLURE SHOLL 
ROLAND HINTON PERRY 

Sculptor, Designer of « Court of Neptune,” Con¬ 
gressional Eibrary 

CHARLES E. LITTLEFIELD 

U. S. Congressman 

JULIUS ST. GEORGE TUCKER 

Former Consul at Martinique, W. I. 

HENRY CODMAN POTTER 

P. E. Bishop of New York 

ELSA BARKER 

Author 

CHARLES DUDLEY WARNER 

Essayist and Novelist 

WINSTON CHURCHILL 

Author and Novelist 

LOUISE CHANDLER MOULTON 

Novelist and Poet 

EDWARD S. ELLIS 
BEATRICE HARRADEN 

Novelist 

WILLIAM CLARK RUSSELL 

Novelist 

THURLOW WEED 

Editor — Politician 

HENRY GEORGE 

Political-economist 

RICHARD HENRY STODDARD 

Poet — Reviewer 

EDMUND CLARENCE STEDMAN 

Poet — Critic 

THOMAS COLLIER PLATT 

U. S. Senator—President U. S. Express Com¬ 
pany 

SILAS WIER MITCHELL, M.D. 

Author 

EDMUND GOSSE 

Poet — Essayist — Critic 

ROBERT GRANT 

Author — Judge of Probate and Insolvency 

GEORGE C. BARRETT 
MRS. LELAND STAFFORD 
JOHN DAVIDSON ROCKEFELLER 

Capitalist 

MARSHALL FIELD 

Merchant 

RUSSELL CONWELL 

President Temple College 


LIST OF CONTRIBUTORS 


IX 


GEORGE RAYWOOD DEV ITT 
M.A. 

LELAND OSSIAN HOWARD 

Chief of Division of Entomology TJ. S. Depart¬ 
ment of Agriculture 

THOMAS WENTWORTH HIGGIN- 
SON 

Author 

GENERAL THOMAS L. ROSSER 
SAMUEL M. BRYAN 
JOHN W. GOFF 

CHAUNCEY MITCHELL DEPEW 

U. S. Senator 

GEORGE WESTINGHOUSE 

Inventor— Manufacturer 

STEPHEN BENTON ELKINS 

U. S. Senator 

JOSEPH EDWARD SIMMONS 

Banker 

WILLIAM CONANT CHURCH 

Editor— Author 

ARTHUR WING PINERO 

Dramatist 

JOSEPH HODGES CHOATE 

U. S. Ambassador to England 

WILLIAM VINCENT ALLEN 

Ex-Senator 

JOHN W. KELLER 
JONATHAN P. DOLLIVER 

Congressman — Cawyer 

THOMAS LEMUEL JAMES 

Ex-Postmaster— General — Banker 

ISAAC N. SELIGMAN 

Banker 

ANDREW CARNEGIE 

Manufacturer 

ROSWELL P. FLOWER 

Ex-Governor of New York 

RUFUS ROCKWELL WILSON 
CHARLES BROADWAY ROUSS 

Merchant 

JOHN EAMES 

General Manager, H. B. Claflin Company 

[OHN GILMER SPEED 

Author — Journalist 

FRANK LEE FARNELL 

SAMUEL LANGHORNE CLEMENS 
(Mark Twain) 


JOHN QUINCY ADAMS WARD 

Sculptor 

WILBUR FISK HINMAN 
FRANCES MARION CRAWFORD 

Novelist 

GEORGE CLEMENT PERKINS 

U. S. Senator 

JOSEPH PULITZER 

Proprietor New York * World * 

ANTHONY BRADY 
THOMAS HENRY CARTER 

Ex-Senator 

ALBERT J. BEVERIDGE 

U. S. Senator 

J. C. BAYLIS 

Formerly Editor * Iron Age * 

CHARLOTTE DOBBINS 
EUGENE F. BISBEE 
J. D. WARFIELD 
ELSIE HOLFORD 
ORIANA M. WILLIAMS 
MARY ANNA BROWN 
HENRY B. RUSSELL 
MORTIMER A. DOWNING 
FREDERICK A. SAWYER 
CYRUS P. JONES 
E. E. HIGGINS 
DUDLEY A. SARGENT 

Professor Physical Culture, Harvard University 

W. H. BALLOU 
ROBERT MACKAYE 
LAURA MORGAN 

MARGARET ELIZABETH SANG- 
STER 

ANITA NEWCOMBE MAGEE, M.D. 
ROSCOE L. PETERSON 

U. S. N. A. 

HARRY C. LEWIS 

Department of Justice 

MARGARET B. DOWNING 
HENRY KETCHAM 
L. C. EVANS 

CELESTE BENNETT DOBBINS 
REV. DR. WILLIAMS 


X 


LIST OF CONTRIBUTORS 


R. M. FULLER 
MARY TWOMBLY 
FLORENCE LIPPINCOTT 
M. de HAAS BULKLEY 
E. S. BASS 

LESLIE F. CLEMENS 

E. L. SNELL 

J. P. COUGHLAN 

MADELEINE KENDRICK VAN 
PELT 

HARRY STEELE MORRISON 
RUTH EVERETT 
PAUL LATZKE 
H. I. DODGE 

F. L. BLANCHARD 
MARY SQUIRE HINMAN 


ELISABETH SYLVESTER 
AMELIA EDITH BARR 

Author 

J. C. BROWN 
J. G. TUCKER 
FRANCES TOBEY 
H. M. LOWE 
VAN CULLEN JONES 
EMILY C. SHAW 
J. C. RANSOM 
J. H. DEMPSEY 
EMMA P. HEALD 
C. H. CLAUDY 
ELIZA PITTMAN 

FLORENCE LOUISE HART 
E. L. BRENIZER 


ETC. 


ETC. ETC. 


ETC. 





XI 


GENERAL INTRODUCTION 


T he aim of The Success Library is indicated by its title. In this 
library are brought together the best thoughts and the most 
advanced knowledge on those subjects that are necessary to 
general culture and the preparation for success. It is a home edu¬ 
cator, placing within the reach of every child and every young or 
middle-aged man or woman the practical means to fit themselves 
for the battle of life. 

It begins at the beginning of life, with instructions for the phys¬ 
ical, mental, and moral development of children, and it extends 
far beyond the limits of college training. It does not pretend to 
carry a university education into the home, but it carries far more 
than any university possibly can give: a thorough preparation for 
life. He who has not had the benefits of a university education 
will find here something to take its place; while he who has had 
those benefits will find directions for the practical application of the 
knowledge which he may have obtained, and upon this application 
depends his success or failure. No man has more mistaken notions 
of life than the average college graduate at the time of his gradu¬ 
ation, for his training has been purely theoretical, and as he mingles # 
with the practical world about him he is forced to relinquish one by 
one his pet theories. It is this theoretical training that leads so 
many people to cast doubt upon the wisdom of college education; 
whereas the real solution of the problem lies in backing up that edu¬ 
cation by the accumulated wisdom of riper experience. This enables 
a man or woman to live his or her life to the fullest degree. 

This library is not intended for any particular age or condition in 
life; it has much for everyone. It is written by specialists in each 
of the many branches treated: specialists in child-training, in home 
development, manual training, the study of nature, history, biography, 
art, music, literature, folklore, business, the science of success, 
etc., etc. 

That part which deals with the choosing of a vocation is alone worth 
the price of the set, for on the proper and wise choice of a career 
depends the whole after life of every man and woman. That man 
has failed who has not brought to fruition all the seeds that have 



Xll 


GENERAL INTRODUCTION 


lain dormant in his nature; who has not brought out of himself all 
the treasures with which destiny endowed him. It is not necessary 
for a man to fail ignominiously in order to be a failure; there are 
degrees of non-success, and nearly every one of these is due to 
misdirected energy. Think of the years that are wasted in uncon¬ 
genial callings, in work begun and left unfinished,— unsustained efforts 
that add nothing to the wealth of the community or to the advance¬ 
ment of the individual worker. These are life-tragedies that a little 
wise advice in the beginning might have averted. It is this con¬ 
sciousness that has actuated the men and women who have collected 
the matter in these volumes and put it into its present shape, with the 
hope of stimulating and inspiring others to the proper application 
of the knowledge therein contained. 

This subject of inspiration is one that has never been fully under¬ 
stood. We have all met people whose very presence acted on us as 
the strongest stimulant, though we could not explain the nature of 
the influence. The two chief elements in this inspirational force 
are love and enthusiasm, and a large measure of these elements has 
gone to the making of The Success Library. To show others how 
to attain the success that we have attained is the chief end of our 
desire and of our labor. 

There are three essentials to all success that is worth while: physical, 
mental, and moral health; and every page in these volumes tends 
toward one or all of these. Good physical health is the first, and 
perhaps the most important, for without that as a basis the life of 
man or woman has not a firm foundation. In the volume on Child- 
Culture will be found knowledge of incalculable value, which, with 
the practical lessons on Physical Culture given in Volume IV, should 
enable anyone who is not the victim of some chronic disease to keep 
and enjoy at least a reasonable degree of health and vigor. Much 
has been said and written on the subject of physical culture that is 
not of great practical value; but the matter in this volume em¬ 
braces the best and the latest developments in the science of body¬ 
building that are obtainable anywhere. The preparation of the whole 
subject has been under the personal direction of one of the ablest 
and best-known exponents of physical culture, and nothing is inserted 
that is not capable of practical, every-day application, from the de¬ 
tailed directions for establishing a home gymnasium, through the 
sections on appropriate gymnasium-dress, grace and ease of move¬ 
ment, calisthenics, dumb-bells, Indian clubs, horizontal bar, trapeze, 
rings, ladder, running, etc., down to and including the hints on dura¬ 
tion of exercise, excess, baths, and such other points which to the ex¬ 
perienced teacher of physical culture seem necessary or desirable. 


GENERAL INTRODUCTION 


Kill 


The training of the mind, with a view to attaining the highest 
possible degree of mental health and equilibrium, being a more 
complicated and difficult subject, has received even fuller treatment. 
For the benefit of those who are now little children, in Volume VII 
the systems of Froebel and other modern psychologists are explained 
so clearly as to be understandable by even the youngest mother; but 
as this is not merely a child’s book, in the other volumes are taken 
up all those subjects that should be the common mental stock-in-trade 
of every boy and girl and every man and woman. Nothing is omitted 
that is necessary to give the stamp of culture — the hall-mark of the 
well-bred, well-trained person. 

How often in a mixed company does one hear a reference to some 
masterpiece of literature or art, some myth or legend, and then see 
the blank expression on the faces of those who do not understand 
what is meant. They are self-conscious and ashamed of their igno¬ 
rance. With the knowledge given in these volumes, no one — no 
matter how humble his birth — need be afraid to go into any society, 
through fear of appearing ignorant or out of place. As an example 
of the easy culture aimed at, there is given in the volume on Art, 
Music, and Literature, a great number of short articles on the vari¬ 
ous masterpieces, showing in the case of each work of art,— as for 
instance the well-known Venus of Milo,— the history of the master¬ 
piece, its date if known, its travels, its money value if known, with 
a detailed explanation of the subject of the work itself, what it is, 
what it means, etc., and generally with a reproduction of it as an 
illustration to the article. 

The masterpieces of literature are dealt with in a similar way. 
As an example of this group, the (< Merchant of Venice ® of Shakes¬ 
peare is carefully analyzed; its structure and story are shown, what 
went to its making, why it is a masterpiece, etc. Similar treatment 
is given to the great musical compositions; and in that department 
there are many brief stories of the lives of famous musicians, with 
lists of their best-known works. 

As mythology and its kindred legends have inspired more master¬ 
pieces of every art than all other subjects put together, in Volume 
IX of this set the great myth-systems and legends of the world are 
explained in detail, — the beautiful Greek, the Hindoo, the Norse, 
etc.; while at the end of each chapter is a full bibliography for the 
use of the student who wishes to delve further into this most fasci¬ 
nating subject. This volume alone furnishes the means for a liberal 
education, and its mastery will go far toward stamping any man or 
woman as a scholar. 

As a further and very important means of culture, the chapters 


XU- 


GENERAL INTRODUCTION 


on personal deportment and etiquette in Volume IV are especially 
recommended, and this brings us to the third essential to success — 
moral health in our relations with our fellowmen. Manners are not, 
as so many people seem to think, external and arbitrary; there is a 
reason founded on principle for every rule of deportment. As 
Henriette Hovey says: (< Manners are the* ritual of society. w They 
are the exterior symbol of the interior ideal of love and courtesy to 
one’s brother. 

Taken as a whole, The Success Library is a storehouse of just 
that knowledge that is essential to the best physical, mental, and 
moral development; and its mastery is the strongest possible prepara¬ 
tion for a successful life. 


XV 


INTRODUCTORY 


F rom infancy we are the creatures of example. Imitation is an 
instinct that is born in every human being. The child learns 
to talk by imitating those who are older. Thought is awakened 
and exercised by the desire to follow the speech and the actions of 
others. Thus it is that during the years of youth and early man¬ 
hood and womanhood, the formative period of life, habit and charac¬ 
ter are the direct result ot example. We do as others do. The words, 
the actions, the lives, of those with whom we are in contact, in large 
measure give shape and direction to our own. 

Success in life is often achieved by following the example of those 
who have overcome adverse conditions and influences, and thus have 
accomplished great results. Generally speaking, those who are born 
to wealth or greatness do not win the brightest laurels. The richest 
rewards of human effort come to those whose heritage is poverty, 
but who are inspired with a lofty ambition and purpose to clear 
away obstacles, or to leap over them, and unlock the doors that open 
to success. It is not given to all of us to reach the top, but there 
is not one who may not ascend to higher planes, in any department 
of activity, and in the development of character. 

It is along this line that this volume has been prepared. Noth¬ 
ing can be more encouraging and helpful to young persons than to 
read the stories of successful lives. That which has been done by 
one person may be accomplished by another. The path that has been 
trod remains open to those who will follow. No one can bar the way 
through which he himself has passed. What young person can read 
of the early struggles, the high purpose, the growing ambition, the 
long, persevering effort, of Lincoln, and Garfield, and Greeley, and 
Whitney, and Prescott, and Carnegie, and a host of others, without 
a quickening pulse and a kindling desire to go and do as they did — 
or at least to try! 

Let no one for a moment imagine that all has been done, and 
that there is nothing left to be achieved by those who live in the 
twentieth century. The great world of human effort is constantly 
growing larger. Expansion — progress — is the order of all things. 
The opportunities that beckon to success to-day are vastly greater 
than were those of a hundred years ago, and he who will may pass 



XVI 


INTRODUCTORY 


through the gate. The leaps and bounds, forward and upward, that 
marked our progress during the nineteenth century, will be far ex¬ 
ceeded by those of the new era that has dawned. The world needs 
and demands more thought, more energy, and more action than ever 
before, and in supplying these needs and demands, the boys and girls 
of to-day will have a large part. There is no limit to the possibili¬ 
ties of man’s genius, his effort, or his achievement. Could we look 
forward a hundred years, we should be no less amazed than would 
those who died a hundred years ago, could they now awaken and 
behold what has been wrought while they have slept. Well may those 
who are about to enter upon the active duties of life, feel the inspi¬ 
ration of the dawning day, and, with exalted aims and hopes, strive 
to reach the goal. As General Sidney Johnston said to his officers, 
when his army was in battle array, at Shiloh, w Let every command 
be, ( Forward ! >>> 

The matter herein contained has been prepared expressly for this 
volume, and is entirely original. This is an American book, and all the 
sketches are of Americans, by birth or adoption,— men and women 
who have made our history, developed our resources, produced our 
marvelous inventions, established our industries, built our highways 
of travel and commerce; who have distinguished themselves in 
statesmanship, in literature, in moral reforms, in the learned profes¬ 
sions, and men who, on land and sea, have fought and died in 
defense of (< Old Glory.” The sketches are written in an easy, at¬ 
tractive style, that will give pleasure as well as profit to the reader. 
They contain a vast amount of information, facts that every Amer¬ 
ican should know. These relate to the growth and progress of our 
republic, as reflected in the lives of those who have made it a 
mighty and prosperous nation and have placed it among the com¬ 
manding powers of the world. It is a happy combination of biogra¬ 
phy and history, in which are set forth clearly and with graphic pen, 
all the important events in our country’s record, from the Revolu¬ 
tionary days to the present time. 


XVII 


TABLE OF CONTENTS 


Volume l 


Abbott, Jacob— page 

He wrote many books helpful to young people .I 

Adams, John — 

A sturdy patriot of the Revolutionary era .3 

Adams, John Quincy — 

A statesman whose last days were his best days .9 

Alcott, Louisa May — 


Whose books have delighted millions of (< little women >} . . . . 14 

Anthony, Susan Brownell — 

A woman whose life was devoted to woman .17 

Armour, Philip Danforth — 

Pluck, perseverance, business tact, success .20 

Arthur, Chester Alan — 

He took the executive chair when Garfield died .22 

Astor, John Jacob — 

A financial oak that grew from a small acorn .25 

Bancroft, George — 

Who both wrote history and helped to make it .31 

Banks, Nathaniel Prentiss — 

Mechanic, lawyer, statesman and soldier .36 

Barton, Clara — 

An angel of mercy under the Red Cross .41 

Beauregard, Pierre Gustave Toutant — 

Who began the Civil War at Fort Sumter .44 

Beecher, Henry Ward — 

He swayed millions from pulpit and platform .48 

Bell, Alexander Graham — 


The whole world talks through his telephone .51 

Blaine, James Gillespie — 

The (< Plumed Knight ® whose magnetism drew millions to him . 55 

Brooks, Phillips — 

He had exalted talent as a pulpit teacher .64 

Brown, John — 

He died on the scaffold, but his soul went marching on . . . . 69 

Bryan, William Jennings — 

Conspicuous for his devotion to a principle .76 



XVlii TABLE OF CONTENTS 

Bryant, William Cullen— PAGE 

Who wrote poetry and bui/t up a newspaper .82 

Buchanan, James — 

A crown of thorns was his presidential heritage .87 

Buell, Don Carlos — 

The organizer of the Army of the Cumberland . 9 * 

Calhoun, John Caldwell — 

The exponent of the doctrine of State Rights .96 

Carnegie, Andrew— 

A man who gives millions to make the world better . . . .104 

Chase, Salmon Portland — 

He had to do with billions of dollars . ..107 

Clay, Henry — 

A great Kentuckian who just failed of the presidency . . . .113 

Clemens, Samuel Langhorne — 

We all laugh at the humor of (< Mark Twain w .122 

Cleveland, Grover — 

A President who put his country above his party .125 

Cleveland, Frances Folsom — 

A winsome lady of the White House .132 

Cooper, James Fenimore — 

Whose pen pictured the Indians, the forest and the sea . . . .134 

Cooper, Peter — 

He made his fellow-men better and happier .137 

Davis, Jefferson — 

He staked all oti the Cause that was lost .139 

Decatur, Stephen — 

Whose exploits on the sea made him famous .153 

Dewey, George — 

The whole world applauded his feat at Manila .158 

Edison, Thomas Alva — 

Something about the (< Wizard of Menlo Park w .165 

Ericsson, John — 

Who revolutionized the navies of the world .173 

Farragut, David Glasgow — 

Lashed in the maintop of the tt Hartford ® at Mobile . . . .179 

Field, Cyrus West — 

Whose pluck gave to the world the Atlantic cable .186 

Fillmore, Millard — 

Who filled a vacant chair at the White House .191 


ORIGINAL ILLUSTRATIONS 


VOLUME 1. 


Vignette 

JACOB ABBOTT, 

JOHN ADAMS. 

JOHN QUINCY ADAMS, 

LOUISA MAY ALCOTT, 

SUSAN BROWNELL ANTHONY, 
PHILIP DANFORTH ARMOUR, 
CHESTER ALAN ARTHUR, 

JOHN JACOB ASTOR, 

GEORGE BANCROFT, 

NATHANIEL PRENTISS BANKS, 
CLARA BARTON, 

PIERRE GUSTAVE TOUTANT 
BEAUREGARD, 

HENRY WARD BEECHER, 
ALEXANDER GRAHAM BELL, 
JAMES GILLESPIE BLAINE, 
PHILLIPS BROOKS, 

JOHN BROWN, 

WILLIAM JENNINGS BRYAN, 

MILLARD 


PORTRAITS 

WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT, 
JAMES BUCHANAN, 

DON CARLOS BUELL, 

JOHN CALDWELL CALHOUN, 
ANDREW CARNEGIE, 

SALMON PORTLAND CHASE, 
HENRY CLAY, 

SAMUEL LANGHORNE CLEMENS, 
GROVER CLEVELAND, 

FRANCES FOL'SOM CLEVELAND, 
JAMES FENIMORE COOPER, 
PETER COOPER, 

JEFFERSON DAVIS, 

STEPHEN DECATUR, 

GEORGE DEWEY, 

THOMAS ALVA EDISON, 

JOHN ERICSSON, 

DAVID GLASGOW FARRAGUT, 
CYRUS WEST FIELD, 

FILLMORE. 


Vignette Half-tones 

PAGE PAGE 

A Student of Law. 4 A Desperate Situation .... 39 

w This is the End of Earth'* . 13 Under the Red Cross, .... 43 

A Ministering Angel .... 15 The House at Litchfield ... 49 

A Woman’s Will.19 On the Road to Success ... 54 

Hands across the Sea .... 24 « Rum, Romanism, and Rebellion" 62 

A Commercial Compact .... 27 Old Trinity, Boston.66 

The Effort of Half a Century 34 Crossing the Potomac .... 74 


A Favorite Diversion .... 35 His Soul Goes Marching On . . 75 






XX 


ORIGINAL ILLUSTRATIONS 


PAGE PAGE 

In the Shadow of Death ... 85 The Power of Money .... 148 

The (< Star of the West ” ... 90 The Refugees.150 

On to Louisville.94 The <( Rise and Fall® .... 152 

Preaching the Doctrine . . . 101 (< Set Her on Fire”.156 

The Final Effort.103 A Broadside at the (( Manassas ® 159 

A Man of Blood and Iron . . 105 After Breakfast — Manila . . 162 

Breaking the Shackles . . . 111 At the Key — Cincinnati . . . 168 

The Old Kentucky Home . . . 116 An Unpleasant Ordeal . . . 169 

Spreading the New Gospel . . 118 A Commercial Trinity .... 170 

For Fifty Years a Friend . . 121 The Mercury of Fortune . . . 171 

A Reign of Terror.127 The Cheese-box.177 

Twisting the Lion’s Tail . . . 128 <( Go Ahead!”.184 

A Gallant Charge.141 The (< Thick” of the Fight . . 185 

Farewell to the Senate . . . 143 At Fifty Dollars a Year . . 187 

In Durance Vile.147 Planning the Route.188 

Heart’s Content, 1866 .... 189 













I 


JACOB ABBOTT 


He wrote many books helpful to young people. 



J acob Abbott, author and educator, belonged to a family whose 
writing, preaching and teaching have had no small influence upon 
the young people of America. He was born at Hallowell, Maine, 
in 1803; graduated at Bowdoin College in 1820, and began teaching 
in Portland Academy. Later he was a tutor at Amherst 
and rose to occupy the chair of mathematics and natural 
philosophy. Afterward he opened Mt. Vernon School,, 
in Boston, which was one of the first to give to women 
an education coequal with that of men. In this 
school he introduced some radical changes in dis¬ 
cipline and government. He enforced only one 
rule, and that was adopted by the scholars them¬ 
selves. On the side of his desk was a metallic 
plate, on which, in gilded letters, were the words, 

Study Hour. w The plate was movable, and 
when in an upright position it was the signal for 
silence and study. When inclined half-way down, 
any scholar might leave her seat or whisper, but she could do nothing 
to disturb the others. When the plate was altogether down, re¬ 
straint was suspended and the pupils were left entirely at their liberty. 
All serious offenses were referred to Mr. Abbott, who, in each case, 
appealed directly and openly to the conscience of the pupil. Minor 
offenders were tried by a jury of young women, who inflicted pun¬ 
ishment. As the result of his experiment, he brought his school to 
a higher plane in point of discipline than had been known before. 

He continued teaching until 1834, when he began his combined 
work of preaching and writing. He took charge of a church at 
Roxbury, Massachusetts, and during the same year issued the first 
of (< The Young Christian Series, w inspired by his own experience 
in teaching religious truth to the young. It contained models of 
graphic description and simplicity of statement and became remark¬ 
ably popular. Though associated with his brothers in (< Abbott Insti¬ 
tute, w New York, he spent most of his time in writing for young 
people. He was a most prolific author, the number of his publica¬ 
tions exceeding two hundred. All his works are models of purity 


1—1 



2 


JACOB ABBOTT 


and high moral tone. They inculcate none but the most healthy 
sentiments. Many of his books were republished in England and 
elsewhere abroad. Thousands of young men have received from Mr. 
Abbott’s works their first impulses which have led them to manly 
and useful lives. Mr. Abbott once said of his literary work, <( I 
made the book fit the human nature around me and consequently 
it fitted human nature elsewhere.” His fictions became facts. The 
popularity of his books comes from the childlike simplicity, humility, 
truthfulness, playfulness. and genuineness infused into them. The 
most difficult truths are made clear and simple by following the 
manner of the great Master in his parables. 

The latter part of Mr. Abbott’s life was spent in a quiet, rural 
retreat at Farmington, to which he gave the name “Two Acres.” 
We have a beautiful picture of those days, drawn by one of his 
sons, in which the good man is at ease, the work of life done, ex¬ 
cept to write occasional letters to his children and grandchildren, 
and to give lessons in French to the young women of the village. 
When his hand wearied of the pen, he would lay it down, even 
upon an unfinished page, and go out to the path he was making, or 
the shrubbery he was trimming, or to the shop where he would 
have a collection of rustic canes in process of manufacture. When 
he wanted rest, he would seek the sofa and read a newspaper or 
novel. Thus his life was passed until his death in 1879, beloved and 
honored by all who knew him, and by millions who did not know 
him, except through the books he had written. 


3 


JOHN ADAMS 


A sturdy patriot of the Revolutionary era. 



A lthough the life of John Adams, second President of the United 
States, lacks the heroic element which pervades the life of Wash¬ 
ington, his service to the Republic was scarcely less vital. In 
a historical survey of the American Revolution, and of the critical 
period of national organization which followed, it is sometimes for¬ 
gotten that battles and patriotic declarations were but 
one side of the great movement. There was another, 
a business side, which occupied the genius of some ^ 
of the greatest of the patriots. The service of 
John Adams to his country was distinctly a busi¬ 
ness service, involving an immense amount of 
detail work. He ran her errands; he procured 
loans for her; he wrote and legislated for her; 
he served her ten years abroad, at a time when 
her existence was scarcely recognized, and was, 
more than anyone else, her useful man during 
her period of formation. 

The ancestors of John Adams were English. They settled in Amer¬ 
ica in 1636, and obtained grants of land in what was afterward the 
township of Braintree, situated within ten miles of Boston. Here 
John Adams was born, on the nineteenth of October, 1735. His father 
was also named John Adams, and his mother was Susanna Boyl- 
ston, of the neighboring town of Brookline. The family, while not 
wealthy, was well-to-do, according to the standard of those days. A 
college education was, therefore, within the reach of John Adams. In 
1755 he was graduated from Harvard College, being one of a class 
which (< in proportion to its numbers contained as many men after¬ 
ward eminent in the civil and ecclesiastical departments as any class 
that ever was graduated from that institution. w After his graduation, 
the question of his vocation was for a time undecided. Like other 
noted New Englanders, his thoughts turned toward the ministry; 
but, fortunately for the world, he mistrusted his temperament. 
His genius was intensely secular, as he was soon to discover. 
School-teaching was scarcely more congenial than the ministry would 
have been. He soon gave up his (< school of affliction, w as he called 



4 


JOHN ADAMS 


it, and put himself under the tuition of a lawyer in Worcester, Mas¬ 
sachusetts. This was in August, 1756. For two years he studied, 
with an occasional pipe and Ovid’s <( Art of Love ® for relaxation. 
On Monday, November 6, 1758, he took the oath. After this cere¬ 
mony, to use his own words, he (< shook hands with the bar, and in¬ 
vited them over to Stone’s to drink some punch, where most of us 
resorted, and had a very cheerful chat.® This was the beginning of 
a most honorable legal career, as is evidenced in his own saying: (< I 
believe no lawyer in America ever did so much business as I did 
afterward, in the seventeen years that I passed in the practice at the 
bar, for so little profit.® The sterling qualities of his character com¬ 
pelled him always to serve the interests of others rather than his 
P"- own, and it is this characteristic which gives such a 
luster to his patriotism. 

In 1764, when he began his law practice, he married 
Abigail Smith, daughter of a Weymouth minister — 
a woman whose admirable qualities were of the utmost 
value to her husband during his long and difficult career. 

This career had its beginning in a town meeting at 
Braintree, his native place. The meeting was called for 
the purpose of instructing the representatives of the town on 
the subject of the Stamp Act. The resolutions which he here 
presented were adopted by more than forty other towns, and 
brought his name into prominence. The following entry in his 
diary about this time witnesses to the depth of his interest in this 
political crisis: — 

(< Christmas.— At home, thinking, reading, searching concerning taxa¬ 
tion without consent.® 



In 1770 he was chosen representative of the town of Boston for 
the general court, an office which made him chief legal adviser of 
the patriot party, and launched him fairly upon his political and 
patriotic career. He did not begin this work without misgivings. 

® I was throwing away as bright prospects as any man ever had 
before him,® he writes, w and I had devoted myself to endless labor 
and anxiety, if not to infamy and death, and that for nothing except 
what, indeed, was, and ought to be in all, a sense of duty.® 

His first public service was not of long duration, the city life of 
Boston disagreeing with him. But the die had been cast. Much as 
he wished to stand aloof from public affairs, the current was too 
strong for him. He was consulted upon all important points of con¬ 
troversy between the patriots and Governor Hutchinson, and never 
withheld his aid. The destruction of the tea in Boston harbor and 



JOHN ADAMS 


5 


the Boston Port Bill brought about the Congress of 1774, to which 
he was one of the five delegates from Massachusetts. From this 
period he was devoted, heart and soul, to the service of his country. 
Private life and interests were abandoned. He became a public man, 
entering upon that career of difficult statesmanship which he pursued 
always with honor, if not always with entire wisdom. He wrote in 
his diary on this occasion: — 

“There is a new and grand scene open before me: a Congress. This 
will be an assembly of the wisest men upon the continent, who are Ameri¬ 
cans in principle; that is, against the taxation of Americans by authority 
of Parliament. I feel myself unequal to this business. A more extensive 
knowledge of the realm, the colonies, and of commerce, as well as of law 
and policy, is necessary, than I am master of. w 

He took a most active part, however, in the proceedings of the 
Congress, which was held in Philadelphia, upholding in all discussions 
the legal right of the Colonies to resist the tyranny of England. As 
far as can be judged from fragmentary accounts, it was a Congress 
of enthusiasm, but limited in its scope, and productive of little prac¬ 
tical result. But upon Adams, at least, it had the effect of crystalliz¬ 
ing his patriotism and defining his position to himself. At its close, 
he knew on what platform he stood, and why he was there. He 
realized, moreover, as he had never done before, how hopeless was 
the dream of an agreement between the Colonies and the mother 
country. He wrote to his wife: — 

(< Frugality, economy, parsimony, must be our refuge. . . . Let us 

eat potatoes and drink water. Let us wear canvas and undressed sheep¬ 
skin, rather than submit to the unrighteous and ignominious domination 
that is prepared for us. w 

Between the Congress of 1774 and that of 1775, Mr. Adams’s most 
important work was his controversy through a Boston newspaper with 
a Tory antagonist, who wrote for the King’s cause under the pen 
name (< Massachusettiensis, )) Adams replying as “ Novanglus. w The 
battle of Lexington put an end to this paper warfare, in which the 
patriot came off with flying colors. 

The Congress of 1775 differed radically from the Congress of the 
year before, in the fact that it was invested with full legislative and 
executive powers by the unanimous will of the people. Of all its 
members, John Adams played the most important part, for upon him 
fell the full burden of resisting those who desired to present further 
petitions to the king of England. Through his influence, Congress 
was persuaded to vote for putting the Colonies in a state of defense, 
though with protestations that war on their part was defensive only. 


6 


JOHN ADAMS 


He was also influential in inducing Congress to assume the responsi¬ 
bility of the New England army—an impromptu army of fifteen 
thousand men. drawn together after the battle of Lexington. To 
him, also, by his own claim, belongs the honor of proposing Wash¬ 
ington as commander-in-chief of the army. 

Congress then adjourned for the summer vacation. On its re¬ 
opening in September. Mr. Adams found himself an object of suspicion 
to the more conservative members, chiefly because two confidential 
letters of his, which had been intercepted by the British and pub¬ 
lished in Boston papers, were zealous for decisive measures. His 
prestige was not long obscured, however. The necessity for definite 
action was every day becoming more apparent to the nation. The 
petition to the king had been treated with contempt. Royal gov¬ 
ernors were deserting their posts, and the Colonies were turning to 
Congress for advice in the difficult business of assuming a govern¬ 
ment. John Adams was more frequently consulted on this subject 
than any other member, coming, as he did, from a hotbed of Repub¬ 
licanism, and having made a special study of the whole question. 
About this time he wrote w Thoughts on Government Applicable to 
the Present State of the American Colonies.® His policy urged the 
adoption of self-government by each of the Colonies, and a federa¬ 
tion of self-governing bodies, capable of treating with foreign powers 
— a policy, in embryo, of the future government of the United 
States. This he repeatedly urged upon Congress, until, on May 13, 
he carried through a resolution empowering the Colonies to govern 
themselves. Committees on a Declaration of Independence and on 
foreign relations were formed, Adams serving on both. As a mem¬ 
ber of the committee on the Declaration of Independence, he'did 
valiant service, by battling for its acceptance after it had been drawn 
up by Jefferson. To secure its acceptance was, as he said, ® the end 
of his creation . n For three days he employed all the resources of his 
eloquence, attaining, if for the only time in his life, heroic heights. 
When the supreme triumph had been gained, he wrote to his wife: — 

* I am well aware of the toil and blood and treasure that it will cost 
us to maintain this Declaration, and support and defend these states. 
Yet, through all the gloom I can see the rays of ravishing light and glory; 
I can see that the end is more than worth all the means, and that pos¬ 
terity will triumph in this day’s transaction. )J 

The close of John Adams's labors in the Congress of 1776 marked 
the beginning of what might be called his hack work * for the 
new-born Republic. The dignities of statesmanship were ideal, but 
not actual. The whole of Europe looked coldly on the little Nation 


JOHN ADAMS 


7 


and on its representatives. The office of minister involved much labor 
and little honor. When, therefore, John Adams was appointed com¬ 
missioner to France, in 1777, and Minister to Great Britain, in 1779, 
he found his task difficult. Vergennes, the French Minister of For¬ 
eign Affairs, was much opposed to official relations with England, lest 
these should lead to reconciliation. The ministerial mission to 
England, thwarted in one way and another, bore little fruit. A 
breach occurred between Great Britain and Holland, where Adams 
had been sojourning in the hope of securing a loan, and he ob¬ 
tained the appointment of Minister to Holland, on April 19, 1782. 
This appointment enabled him to procure later the much-desired loan 
of two millions of dollars from the Dutch government. The treaty 
of peace was then in progress between Great Britain and the United 
States, and it was chiefly owing to his influence that the participation 
of America in the fisheries was secured. In May,. 1785, Adams ar¬ 
rived at the Court of St. James as accredited Minister from the new 
Republic. His sojourn in England was rendered far from agreeable 
by the hostile attitude of the English government. While there he 
wrote his most voluminous work, entitled w Defense of American 
Constitutions. ® 

Upon his return to America, in 1788, Adams was elected Vice- 
president, having the greatest number of votes after Washington. 
During Washington’s first administration, Adams began to make him¬ 
self unpopular among extreme patriots, by his critical and unfriendly 
attitude toward the French Revolution. He was, however, reelected 
to the vice-presidency in 1792. In 1796 Washington’s retirement from 
office opened the presidency to Adams. He had a strong rival in 
Jefferson; but Adams was Washington’s choice, and under the patron¬ 
age of that great personality he obtained the honor, after a fierce 
campaign. The chief issue of this campaign was the attitude of 
the United States toward France. Jefferson believed that America 
should give positive support to the French government in its quarrel 
with England, while Adams, like Washington, believed in maintain¬ 
ing a strict neutrality. 

The four years of Adams’s administration were years of bitter 
feud, and of such violent accusation of one party by another, that a 
clear judgment of > the events is difficult. The issue of the campaign 
preceding the election continued uppermost throughout the adminis¬ 
tration. Adams’s conservatism earned for him every conceivable 
title of political obloquy. His one determination, to keep the United 
States out of war with England and with France, exposed him to 
the abuse of Federalists and Republicans alike. While there was 
abundant cause to go to war with both these nations — England 
having impressed United States seamen and France having con- 


8 


JOHN ADAMS 


fiscated United States merchandise — there were still better reasons 
for refraining from war. 

At the beginning of Adams’s administration, relations between 
the United States and France were of an embarrassing nature. 
Monroe, the Minister to France, had been recalled, and General 
Pinckney sent in his place. The French Directory refused to receive 
him. Marshall and Gerry were sent over as envoys to join Mr. 
Pinckney. Then came the infamous action of Talleyrand, the Sec¬ 
retary of Foreign Affairs to the French Directory. He proposed that 
the envoys should pay him large bribes to obtain French protection 
for American commerce. On their refusal, a new decree was is¬ 
sued against American commerce. The indignation in the United 
States, when these affairs became known, strengthened for a time 
the power of the Federalist party. The famous expression, <( Millions 
for defense, but not one cent for tribute,” was uttered by Pinckney 
on this occasion. 

War with France was, however, finally averted. Napoleon, hav¬ 
ing overthrown the Directory and made himself First Consul, im¬ 
mediately began overtures of friendship toward the United States. 
A treaty of peace was concluded in September, 1800. 

The administration of Adams is memorable for the Alien and 
Sedition Laws. By the first the President was empowered to send 
out of the country any foreigners whose presence should be consid¬ 
ered prejudicial to the United States. The Sedition law restrained 
the freedom of the press, by making abuse of the government a 
matter of high treason. Both these laws increased the growing un¬ 
popularity of Adams. At the next election he was defeated by 
Jefferson. 

The magnificent services rendered to his country by John Adams 
have been sometimes obscured by his many faults of character, his 
lack of tact, his impetuosity, his unguarded enthusiasm; but the 
longer the perspective of intervening history, the more admirable 
does his statesmanship appear. A greater man might have wrecked 
the Republic in war, in the effort to prove his patriotism; while 
Adams, during the French crisis, was content to endure obloquy, that 
he might save the nation he had helped to create. Of his quarrels 
with Hamilton and Jefferson, a volume might be written, without 
attaining a just estimate of the merits of these dissensions. It is 
better, in summing up the character of Adams, to put these aside 
and to remember chiefly the fidelity of his statesmanship and the 
sincerity and earnestness of his purpose. 

He died on the fourth of July, 1826, a quarter of a century after 
his retirement from office, at the advanced age of ninety-one. On 
the same day, Thomas Jefferson passed from earth. 


9 


JOHN QUINCY ADAMS 



A statesman whose last days were his best days. 

T he history of our country furnishes but a single instance of father 
and son both elevated to the presidency. John Quincy Adams, 
the sixth President, was a son of John Adams, the second Presi¬ 
dent. After his term of office had expired, he did what no other ex- 
President, before or since, has done, in accepting a seat in the House 
of Representatives, where he made a reputation 
far greater than that which he had made in am \ 

the President’s chair. The career of John 
Quincy Adams is a striking illustration 
of what a distinguished American may 
lose and gain by a patriotic but inde¬ 
pendent course in the discharge of his offi¬ 
cial duties. He lived in an age of strong 
partisan feeling, perhaps the most bitter in 
all our annals. He inherited much of the 
independence of his distinguished father, 
and possessed an education infinitely superior to that of 
many of the politicians who then controlled legislation. He 
saw his duty and dared to do it, even in the face of the opposition of his 
own friends and the freely expressed contempt of his opponents. Over 
all he was destined to triumph at last — the champion of human rights, 
one of the master minds of his time — and to .be stricken with death in 
the national Capitol, wherein his greatest victory had been achieved. 

Born at Braintree, Massachusetts, in 1767, John Quincy Adams 
was named for his maternal great-grandfather. He was seven years 
old when the battle of Bunker Hill was fought and, with his mother, 
saw it from a neighboring hill. He accompanied his father when 
the latter was sent as Minister to France, and there received the most 
of his education. Fora time he acted as private secretary to Francis 
Dana, Minister to Russia, and afterward became secretary to the 
commissioners who negotiated the Treaty of Paris. On the subse¬ 
quent appointment of his father as Minister to the Court of St. 
James, the younger Adams returned to America- and entered Harvard 
College, from which he graduated in 1787. 

Even at this early age, Mr. Adams was aggressive. In a news¬ 
paper article he attacked and refuted Thomas Paine’s (< Rights of 
Man, w and wrote ably in opposition to the French Minister, Genet, 



IO 


JOHN QUINCY ADAMS 


in his attempt to involve the United States in the war then existing 
between France and England. President Washington, who was par¬ 
ticularly indignant against Genet, recognized young Adams’s ability 
by nominating him for Minister to The Hague. During the same 
year that his father became President, he married Louisa Catherine 
Johnson, daughter of Joshua Johnson, of Maryland, Consul at London. 
At the request of ex-President Washington he was made Minister to 
Russia, and while there negotiated a treaty between that country and 
the United States. At the end of his father’s presidential term, he 
desired not to embarrass President Jefferson, and asked to be recalled. 

In 1802 John Quincy Adams was chosen to the senate of Massa¬ 
chusetts, in which his independent course greatly displeased the 
Federalists; but he was elected to the United States Senate the fol¬ 
lowing year, and there he experienced to the fullest extent the 
hostility which his father had excited throughout the country. (< Re¬ 
publicans trampled on Federalists, and Federalists trampled on John 
Quincy Adams, w says a writer of the time. When he rose to speak, 
a cold reception met him, for he was an unpopular member of an 
unpopular minority. His very presence in Congress was ignored, 
and his acts were held in utter contempt. The most unpopular sup¬ 
port a measure could have was that of Mr. Adams. Much of this 
was due to his manner, his independence, his freedom of speech and 
much to the fact that he was <( the son of his father. ® The Federal¬ 
ists could never depend upon him, and the Republicans had no use 
for him. Mr. Adams, in 1809, resigned his seat in the Senate, 
saying that he was not the man to stay where he was not wanted. 

But his great ability was beginning to be shown. He had supported 
the non-importation act, which was bitterly opposed by the Federalists. 
The North heaped abuse upon him for helping to kill their trade, 
yet President Madison, in 1809, rewarded him by a nomination for 
Minister to Russia. The Senate refused to concur, but Mr. Madison 
was firm, and Adams was sent. He proved to be an admirable min¬ 
ister and was very popular there. Through him the Emperor offered, 
in 1812, to act as mediator between England and the United States. 
England refused this offer, but later agreed to meet the United 
States commissioners at Ghent. Mr. Adams was one of these com¬ 
missioners. While at Paris, Mr. Adams witnessed the return of Napo¬ 
leon from Elba. Going next to London, he found there a commission 
as envoy extraordinary to Great Britain, which placed him in the 
highest diplomatic station. 

Two years later Mr. Adams became Secretary of State in the Cabi¬ 
net of President James Monroe. This brought him into still greater 
prominence, and his name was entered by his friends in the list of 
presidential candidates. As Secretary of State he defended General 


JOHN QUINCY ADAMS 


i I 

Jackson in his invasion of Florida, then Spanish territory. During the 
discussion upon the Missouri Compromise, he declared, <( Slavery is 
the great and foul stain upon the North American Union.” In 1824 
his name was placed before the people for President, but he refused 
to do anything toward his election. In the electoral college, Jackson 
received 99 votes, Adams 84, Crawford 41, and Clay 37. The election 
was thrown into the House of Representatives. Mr. Clay, who held 
the balance of power, was politically and personally opposed to Jack- 
son. Mr. Crawford was in feeble health, and Clay threw his influence 
to Adams and elected him. In return, President Adams appointed Mr. 
Clay his Secretary of State. The charge of bargain and sale was 
made, which led to Clay’s bloodless duel with John Randolph. Mr. 
Adams found the presidential chair altogether an uneasy one. Both 
houses of Congress were antagonistic, and bitter accusations were 
hurled upon him, yet the country prospered, for he signed more com¬ 
mercial treaties than any administration which had preceded him. 
He was untiring in the discharge of his duties, and refused to allow 
any side issues to distract him from his purpose to promote the 
welfare of the nation. 

In 1828 Adams was defeated for reelection, by Jackson. At the 
expiration of his term, in March, 1829, he retired to his home in Mas¬ 
sachusetts. In 1831 he was elected to the House of Representatives, 
in which he served nearly a score of years, and where he became a 
power, winning the title of <( Old Man Eloquent.® Embittered by the 
many attacks that had been made upon him when he was in the 
presidential chair and could not reply, Mr. Adams now determined 
to throw down the gauntlet and fight for his principles, of which the 
dominating one was opposition to slavery. Absolutely without fear, 
he was a formidable antagonist. He was merciless in invective, and 
men winced and cowered before him. The conflict began with the 
struggle over the admission of Texas. Hundreds of petitions against 
slavery were sent to him and these he boldly presented to Congress, 
until the <( gag law ” of 1836 was passed, to cut off all such petitions. 
In debate, Mr. Adams said of this measure: <( I hold the resolution 
to be a direct violation of the Constitution of the United States, of 
the rules of this House and of the rights of my constituents.” But 
it was enacted and remained a law until 1844. 

The questions embraced in that resolution were, first, that Con¬ 
gress could not constitutionally interfere with slavery in the states; 
second, that it ought not to interfere with it in the District of Colum¬ 
bia; third, that all petitions touching the abolition of slavery should 
be laid upon the table without debate and receive no further action. 
Petitions continued to pour in and Air. Adams would not be baffled. 
In 1837 he received a petition from one hundred and fifty women, 


JOHN QUINCY ADAMS 


I 2 

his constituents, asking for the abolition of slavery in the District 
of Columbia. Mr. Adams rose and began to read the petition and, 
amidst cries for order and intense excitement, succeeded in getting 
it before the House. The Speaker decided that it was not in order 
to read the petition. Mr. Adams appealed from any decision that a 
member could not read what he chose. (< If this is to be suppressed,” 
he said (< let it be a matter of record. ” 

One month later, Mr. Adams presented a petition from a number 
of slaves in Virginia asking that slavery be not interfered with. 
This was a scheme of some of his opponents to catch him in a 
trap. He had been a great stickler for the right of the people to 
petition Congress and to have their petitions heard. Inasmuch as 
this one asked that slavery be not interfered with, it was thought 
that he would decline to present it and thus lay himself open to at¬ 
tack for inconsistency. True to the principle which he had so 
vigorously advocated, Mr. Adams laid the petition before the House. 
When the members heard that it was from slaves, cries of (< Expel 
him!” <( Treason!” rang throughout the hall. Mr. Adams turned the 
laugh when he called attention to what it asked. 

In 1842 Mr. Adams presented a petition from forty-five citizens 
of Haverhill, Massachusetts, praying that Congress would immedi¬ 
ately take measures to dissolve the Union of the United States. Mr. 
Adams then moved that the petition be referred to a select commit¬ 
tee, with instructions to report an answer, showing the reasons why 
the prayer ought not to be granted. Immediate and wild excite¬ 
ment followed this petition. The next day there was an organized 
determination to crush him and his petitions, which culminated in a 
resolution offered by Mr. Marshall, of Virginia, to censure Mr. 
Adams. When the Speaker recognized Mr. Adams in his own de¬ 
fense, up rose that bold, venerable man, his hands trembling with 
age. Scorn and contempt greeted him on every hand. He gratefully 
acknowledged his infinite obligations to the great Virginians of the 
past, recounted the unsought honors heaped upon him by Washing¬ 
ton and Monroe, burst forth in a touching tribute to the hallowed 
memory of the Marshall of other days, and then, giving a scornful 
glance at the Marshall of to-day, he cried out: w I call for the read¬ 
ing of the first paragraph of the Declaration of Independence. 
Read it, read it, and see what that says of the right of the people to 
reform, to change, to dissolve their government! ” When the pas¬ 
sage had been read which proclaimed the right of reform, revolution 
and resistance to oppression, Mr. Adams thundered out, <( Read 
that again!” Looking proudly on the listening audience, he heard 
his triumphant vindication sounded forth in the glorious sentences 
of the nation’s Magna Charta, written by Mr. Jefferson, a Virginian. 


JOHN QUINCY ADAMS 


\3 


The revulsion of feeling- was intense, and even his bitterest enemies 
paid tribute to the grand old man as he sat down. 

But his greatest triumph was some time later when, at the begin¬ 
ning of a Congress, a fierce contest was being waged to elect a Speaker 
and secure the organization of the House, with all its power and pat¬ 
ronage. There had been five days of bitter wrangling with no result, 
because the clerk had persistently refused to put a certain motion. 
His patience exhausted, Mr. Adams, contrary to all precedent, declared, 
(< I intend to put the question, myself,”—and did so. Mr. Wise, of 
Virginia, as an evidence that the (< Old Man Eloquent” had won over 
his enemies, exclaimed — (< Sir, I regard this as the proudest hour of 
your life; and when you are gathered to your fathers, if I were asked 
to select words that best described your character, I would inscribe on 
your tomb the sentence — ( I intend to put the question, myself! >M 

Mr. Adams, during the many debates on the subject in the House, 
was the first to contend that slavery could be abolished by the power 
of the government. Said he: (< From the instant that 
your slaveholding states become the theater of war, civil, 
servile or foreign, from that instant the war powers of 
the Constitution extend to interfere with the institution 
of slavery, in every way in which it can be interfered 
with. When a country is invaded, and its hostile ar¬ 
mies are set in martial array, the commanders of both 
armies have power to emancipate all the slaves in the 
invaded territory. I lay this down as the law of nations. 

Under such conditions, not only the President, but the commander- 
in-chief of the army, has the power to order universal emancipation 
of the slaves.” It was this strong declaration of a man who had 
received the highest honors of his country, both abroad and at home, 
that supported President Lincoln in his Emancipation Proclamation. 

Mr. Adams lived to see the day when all petitions would be re¬ 
ceived in Congress, and he could exclaim <( God be praised, the seals 
are broken; the door is open!” He was stricken suddenly by death, 
in his country’s Capitol, in the midst of his public duties, in 1848. 
The type of purity and patriotic devotion, the champion of the right 
of petition, his illustrious career shone brightly to the end. He re¬ 
ceived a paralytic stroke while in his seat in the House and fell over, 
saying, “This is the end of earth; I am content.” A whole nation 
mourned his loss. 



(< Though aged, he was so iron of limb, 

None of the youth could cope with him; 
And the foes whom he singly kept at bay, 
Outnumbered his hairs of white and gray.” 


14 


LOUISA MAY ALCOTT 


Whose books have delighted millions of (< little women?* 



A multitude of people have read, with the keenest pleasure, “ Little 
Women, ” “Little Men,” “Joe’s Boys,” “An Old-Fashioned Girl” 
and “Moods.” Their author, Louisa May Alcott, was born in 
Germantown, Pennsylvania, in 1832. She was the daughter of Amos 
Bronson Alcott, who was widely known as a transcendental philosopher. 

A great many people believed that his head was full 
of “isms,” and no doubt to some extent this is true. 
But, erratic though he may have been, he was a 
good man, whose actuating principle was a broad 
philanthropy, which gave birth to a desire to do 
something for the betterment of the world. But phil¬ 
anthropic enterprises do not often yield large financial 
returns, and the case of Mr. Alcott was not an excep¬ 
tion to the general rule. He gave delightful lectures 
and “ conversations ” in the interest of his social and moral 
theories, but the family resources suffered, and it became neces¬ 
sary for its younger members to put forth their efforts as bread¬ 
winners. 

When Louisa was twelve years old, the family removed to Boston, 
and six years later, to Concord. From a child, she had shown more 
than ordinary intelligence, and especial attention was paid to her 
education, under the tutelage of her father. This was supplemented 
by attendance at the district school, but she did not have the advan¬ 
tage of a higher education. Early in life she evinced a taste for 
“ solid ” reading, and found in her father’s library abundant means for 
its gratification. When eleven years old she fell under the influence 
of the Transcendentalists, among whom her father was a leader She 
was captivated at first, but as she grew older she had little in sym¬ 
pathy with the abstruse and bewildering theories of that sect. Some 
years later, she gave utterance to her feelings in a story which was 
published in book form under the title, “Transcendental Wild Oats.” 
It was a retrospect of a period of her life in which absurdities came 
out in bold relief, while she discerned the misty outlines of high 
aspirations, as yet but poorly realized. 



LOUISA MAY ALCOTT 


15 


When seventeen years of age, Miss Alcott was seized with a strong 
desire to adopt the stage as a profession. She was very fond of dramatic 
entertainments, and at this early age she had written several plays. 
None of them were produced on the stage, but they have been care¬ 
fully preserved in manuscript by her friends. It was only at the earnest 
solicitation of her mother that she was dissuaded from a theatrical 
career. Miss Alcott began early to write. When sixteen years old 
she wrote a story for which she received five dollars from a maga¬ 
zine publisher. A period covering the next half-dozen years was the 
apprenticeship of her life. She practiced much with her pen, pro¬ 
ducing short stories and sketches, which gradually grew in popularity 
and in market value—the latter of greater importance to her. Mean¬ 
while, she tried various other occupations, although she did not at any 
time give up her writing. She felt it necessary to find some vocation 
that would be more productive. She tried teaching, but this was not 
congenial to her, neither did she prove successful in that field of 
labor. It waf necessary that she should earn money, to assist in the 
support of the family, and she undertook sewing. It was a great 
relief to her when her work with the pen began to be remunerative 
and she was freed from the bondage of the needle. 

At the age of twenty-two, Miss Alcott published her first book, 
entitled <( Flower Fables.* It was favorably received, but, more than 
that, it brought her many applications from publishers for 
stories, and within two years she found her writings in 
demand, to an extent far beyond her fondest hopes. 

In 1856 she went to Boston, believing that in the 
cultured atmosphere of that city she would find 
her greatest success. She made the 
ance of Theodore Parker, who was of great 
assistance to her during her early struggles. 

In 1862, upon the advice of friends, she es¬ 
tablished a kindergarten school, and for a 
short time gave her energies to the work, 
but the degree of success she attained was 

not sufficient to satisfy her ambitious spirit, _ 

and she resolved to devote herself wholly to ^ 
literature. She abandoned all else, and from 
that time forward gave herself to writing. Dur¬ 
ing the Civil War she joined a corps of nurses, 
and was on duty for some months at the Union Hospital, in George¬ 
town, at the national capital. She was unremitting in her attention to 
her patients, and as the result of exposure she contracted a severe 
illness, which came near to ending her life, and from which she never 
wholly recovered. Her letters to her mother and sister, while nursing 





i6 


LOUISA MAY ALCOTT 


the sick and wounded soldiers, were afterward published in a volume 
entitled <( Hospital Sketches.® These are most touching in their de¬ 
scription of the painful scenes and experiences of hospital work. 

It was in 1867 that Miss Alcott wrote w Little Women,® which 
brought her the fame for which she had so long hungered. Within 
three years, more than one hundred thousand copies of this book 
were sold. Its author was unconscious of its merits and was sur¬ 
prised at its success. In 1870 Miss Alcott went abroad, where she 
received much courteous attention, for her fame as a writer had pre¬ 
ceded her. Soon after her return she published “Work, ® one of her 
most popular and successful books, which added much to her literary 
reputation. Other works which have been mentioned followed, and 
she became one of the most admired and beloved of American 
women. She died in Boston, in 1888, on the day of her father’s 
funeral. Both lay at the same time on their deathbeds. She was 
not informed of the death of her father, and died in ignorance of 
the fact that he had .preceded her. If it be true that friends on 
earth are reunited in the life beyond, it is not difficult to imagine the 
glad surprise with which she greeted her father when her gentle 
spirit passed into the hereafter. 

In appearance, Miss Alcott was striking rather than beautiful, as 
judged by the world’s standard of beauty. Her tall, well-proportioned 
figure was suggestive of the physical vigor and activity that charac¬ 
terized her. She had a large, well-shaped head, crowned with a 
wealth of rich, brown hair. She was dignified in bearing, and yet 
easy and pleasant in manner, with that perfect poise and self-control 
which are the stamp of true womanhood. She cared little for dis¬ 
tinction, for its own sake, but took a simple and natural pleasure in 
the attentions which her celebrity brought her. She greatly enjoyed 
her association with brilliant, intellectual people. After her removal 
to Boston it was her privilege to be much in cultured society. 
Emerson, Hawthorne and Thoreau were among the associates of her 
earlier years. Miss Alcott was preeminent as a writer of stories for 
young people. She excelled in this field, while she failed to reach 
her ideal when, now and then, she attempted what may perhaps be 
called the higher planes of literature. She used to say that she was 
prouder of the thirty-two dollars she received for her first book, 
“Flower Fables,® than of the eight thousand dollars which, years 
later, were paid her as her portion for the sale of her books during 
the short period of six months. 


i7 


SUSAN BROWNELL ANTHONY 


A -woman -whose life was devoted to woman. 

B orn of a Quaker father and a Baptist mother, in 1820, the child¬ 
hood of Miss Anthony was marked by active strength. Her 
father had been reprimanded by the authorities of the Quaker 
church for marrying a Baptist and for wearing a comfortable cloak. 
He was finally expelled for allowing a room in his house to be used 
for the instruction of his children in dancing. Though a 
wealthy cotton manufacturer, he desired that his chil¬ 
dren should be trained for professions. His daughters 
were prepared in the best private schools for teach¬ 
ing, which was then the only vocation open to females. 

At fifteen, Susan became a private teacher in a Quaker 
family, at one dollar a week and board. When the 
financial crash of 1837 came, it carried Mr. Anthony’s 
wealth with it, and his wisdom in fitting his children for 
an emergency was clearly proved. They were all teaching, and were 
of great assistance to him in his distress. Susan was successful in a 
marked degree, and devoted fifteen years to the work. She was an 
active member of the New York Teachers’ Association and made 
many effective appeals for higher wages in the profession and for 
equal rights and equal compensation for women, in all its honors, 
labors and responsibilities. 

Female teachers are much indebted to Miss Anthony for the im¬ 
proved conditions of later years. In a speech before one of the con¬ 
ventions, she amazed her audience when she said: (< Do you not see 
that so long as society says a woman has not brains enough to be a 
lawyer, a doctor or a minister, but has ample training to be a 
teacher, every man of you who condescends to be a teacher tacitly 
acknowledges before all Israel and the sun, that he has not any more 
brains than a woman?® Elizabeth Cady Stanton once said that she 
never saw Miss Anthony embarrassed but once, when called upon to 
make an address. It was when she was asked to talk to the inmates 
of an insane asylum. Senator Edmunds, of Vermont, said of one 
of Miss Anthony’s addresses in behalf of woman suffrage before a 
committee of the Senate, all the members of which were trained in 
law, that it was unanswerable. 

1—2 




i8 


SUSAN BROWNELL ANTHONY 


% 

Miss Anthony early became interested in the temperance cause'. 
She joined the “Daughters of Temperance,” and in 1852 organized a 
Woman’s Temperance League, the first in the country. Mrs. Stan¬ 
ton was its president and Miss Anthony, secretary. Convinced that 
women could do much more for temperance with the ballot, Miss 
Anthony gave her attention to the latter, saying, <( I have not time 
to dip out vice with a teaspoon while the wrongly adjusted forces 
of society are pouring it in by the bucketful. ” She was also a pro¬ 
nounced Abolitionist, and both before and during the war was instru¬ 
mental in sending to Congress petitions for the abolition of slavery, 
the signatures to which aggregated many hundreds of thousands. 
Circulated through the North and West, these were an active and 
powerful agent to arouse and quicken the popular mind. Charles 
Sumner wrote to her, <( Send on petitions; they furnish the only back¬ 
ground for my demands.” 

She now founded her paper, ® Revolution,” which was edited by 
Mrs. Stanton and Parker Pillsbury. Among its contributors were 
some of the ablest thinkers of the time, and from its beginning it 
wielded a widespread influence in molding public opinion. It was 
not financially successful, however, and ran up a debt of $10,000, 
which Miss Anthony at once determined to meet by organizing a 
lecture course, and this enabled her to pay every dollar. 

As a lecturer, Miss Anthony has always been in demand. In almost 
every hamlet of the North her voice has been heard. She has made 
constitutional arguments before congressional committees and has 
spoken to assemblies of all kinds, always clear, forcible and enter¬ 
taining, and never wearying her hearers. She is never in a hurry, 
uses no sentiment or poetry, but is earnest and practical, with 
plenty of humor, and always commands a respectful hearing, even 
from those who do not coincide with her views. 

She created much excitement by declaring her purpose to test 
the fourteenth constitutional amendment, by attempting to vote at the 
presidential election of 1872. She succeeded, but was arrested and 
stood trial, on the charge of illegal voting. By the advice of her 
counsel, who wished to keep her from prison, she gave a bond, which 
barred her cause before the Supreme Court. When asked by the 
judge, <( Did you not vote as a woman?” she replied, <( No, sir, I 
voted as a citizen of the United States.” When the trial was set, 
she canvassed her county to be sure that all the jurors would under¬ 
stand her idea of a citizen’s rights. Her opponents changed the 
venue to another county. In twenty-four hours Miss Anthony had 
her plans laid, with dates and posters for a series of meetings in 
that county. After argument had been presented to the jury, the 


SUSAN BROWNELL ANTHONY 


*9 


judge took the case from its hands, on the ground that it was a 
question of law and not of fact. He pronounced Miss Anthony 
guilty, and fined her one hundred dollars and the costs. Turning 
to the judge she exclaimed, <( Resistance to tyranny is obedience to 
God, and I shall never pay a penny of this unjust fine.® She always 
afterward gloried in not having paid it. The election inspectors who 
received the ballots from her and her friends were fined and im¬ 
prisoned, but they were pardoned by President Grant. 

Those who have followed Miss Anthony have noticed a wonderful 
knowledge and memory of state affairs; of the formation of political 
parties; of the parts played by prominent men; of 
all that has been said and done for women. These 
acquirements make her a most genial companion, | 
although she is as good a listener as she is a talker. 

The agitation of the past half century, in which 
she has had so large a part, has wrought a marvel¬ 
ous change in public sentiment, not only in the 
standing of women before the law, but in the busi¬ 
ness vocations of life. Ridicule and derision for 
Miss Anthony and her coadjutors have been supplanted 
by courtesy and respect. Society has thrown open its 
them, and in many distinguished gatherings they are 
words of sincerity and earnestness. The National Woman Suf¬ 
frage Association recently celebrated the eightieth birthday of Miss 
Anthony. It was the occasion for an outburst of spontaneous grati¬ 
tude and love which has few parallels in the annals of humankind. 

Miss Anthony is truly one of the heroic figures of American his¬ 
tory. She says her work has been like subsoil plowing, only to pre¬ 
pare the ground for cultivation by women who are reaping the 
benefits of fuller ' opportunities and higher education. Wider fields 
of usefulness are constantly opening to woman, and year by year 
greater political privileges are accorded her. In half of the states, 
women now (1901) may vote on school questions; in two states they 
may vote also at municipal elections; and in three states at all 
elections, state and national. 



doors 

heard 


to 

in 


mm 



20 


PHILIP DANFORTH ARMOUR 


Pluck , perseverance , business tact , success. 



T his merchant-philanthropist, third son of a prosperous farmer who 
went from Connecticut to New York in 1825, was born at 
Stockbridge, Madison County, New York, in 1832. His mother 
had been a school-teacher, and Philip owed much to her for the 
integrity, thrift, energy, strong common sense, economy of time and 

benevolence of heart that characterized his life. 
Both in school and on the playground his activity 
of mind was shown. A marked attachment for 
one of his schoolmates had great influence in 
shaping Philip’s career, for it gave him an eager 
desire to make a home for himself. 

When the news of the discovery of gold in Cali¬ 
fornia reached young Armour, he started, with a 
party, across the continent. Much of the journey, 
lasting six months, was made on foot, over moun¬ 
tains, across desert wastes, and through Indian regions, 
but when the El Dorado was reached the pilgrims forgot 
their toils and privations, as they came under the fascinating spell of 
the gold mines. His associates after a time determined to return 
home, but Armour secured by purchase a ditch which afforded fair 
placer mining, and he began to prosper. 

After spending six years in California, he returned to <( the 
states w in 1856, with the Western fever upon him. Milking cows 

and other farm work had become distasteful to him and he soon 

went to Milwaukee, Wisconsin, where an old friend was engaged 
in the grocery business. He became a partner, and began to lay 
the foundation for his future great fortune. The succeeding year 
opened to him another field of enterprise — that of transporting 

eastward, on a large scale, the food stuffs of the West. He 

bought the largest grain elevator in the city, and began ship¬ 
ping wheat and packing pork. He organized the firm of Armour, 
Plankinton & Company, and established branches in Chicago, New 
York and Kansas City, each with one of his brothers at its 
head. Later, the main office of the company was established in 
Chicago. So enormously did the business increase that in 1893 it 
aggregated $102,000,000. The company owned four thousand cars 




PHILIP DANFORTH ARMOUR 


2 I 

and seven hundred horses, and employed eleven thousand men, who 
received $5,500,000 yearly in wages. Some of the heads of depart¬ 
ments were paid $25,000 each per year; and Mr. Armour owned 
more grain elevators than anyone else in the world. 

Mr. Armour used a goodly portion of his large gains for the ele¬ 
vation of his fellowmen, physically, mentally and morally. Much of 
his charitable work has been private. His public monuments are Ar¬ 
mour Mission, Armour Flats and Armour Institute of Technology. 
These are in Chicago, all wisely planned, completely equipped and 
ably managed, and all doing excellent work. The first is a Sunday 
School of two thousand children, with a free kindergarten and a free 
dispensary. The second, adjoining, is for workingmen and their 
families, with more than two thousand apartments, each with six or 
seven rooms, built around a large grass plat. Each occupant pays 
from $17 to $35 a month, the net proceeds to support the mission, 
all the advantages of which he is entitled to enjoy. The tenants 
maintain a high standard of neatness. The Armour Institute is a five- 
story, fire-proof building on Armour Avenue. It offers an opportunity 
to men and women to fit themselves for every department of busi¬ 
ness, for entrance to college, for housekeeping and the domestic arts. 
Mr. Armour gave $1,500,000 to found this institute and put his 
pastor at the head of it. It was opened in 1893, with six hundred 
pupils. In practical helpfulness, the enterprise has proved most 
successful. 

The following incident shows Mr. Armour’s shrewdness to recog¬ 
nize and grasp an opportunity: One morning in 1864, he knocked 
at the door of Mr. Plankinton, his partner, and said to him, ® I am 
going to take the next train to New York to sell pork ( short. J Grant 
and Sherman have the rebellion by the throat, and pork will go 
down to twelve dollars a barrel. * He went and offered pork at forty 
dollars per barrel. It was eagerly taken. The Wall Street specula¬ 
tors laughed at the young western merchant, and told him pork would 
go to sixty dollars, for the war was not nearly over, but Armour kept 
on selling. Grant continued to advance. Richmond fell and pork 
went down to twelve dollars a barrel. Mr. Armour had cleared two 
millions of dollars. One of his maxims offers good advice to the be¬ 
ginner: (< A man must master his undertaking and not let it master 
him. He must have the power to decide instantly on which side he is 
going to make his mistakes. w 

Mr. Armour died near the end of 1900, leaving a colossal fortune. 
All of the company’s great plants were closed on the day of the funeral, 
which was attended by an army of employees. 


22 


CHESTER ALAN ARTHUR 


He took the executive chair when Garfield died. 



C hester Alan Arthur, twenty-first President of the United States, 
was born at Fairfield, Franklin County, Vermont, October 5, 
1830. His father, William Arthur, was a Baptist minister of 
Irish birth. Chester was the eldest of nine children. As a child, 
he went to school in Union village, Washington County, New York. 
Later he attended an institute in Schenectady, where, at the early 
age of fifteen, he entered Union College. During his 
sophomore year, and again during his senior year, he 
taught school at Schaghticoke. He was popular 
among his fellows at college, and, although a close 
student, was a member of several fraternities. He 
was graduated in 1848, with high honors. When Mr. 
Arthur left Union College, he decided to follow the 
law as a profession, and attended the Ballston Spa 
Law School. In 1851 he became principal of an acad¬ 
emy at North Pownal, Vermont, a school in which, three 
years later, James A. Garfield taught penmanship. While here, Arthur 
still found time to pursue his law studies. In 1853 he went to New 
York, where he entered the law office of E. G. Culver. After one 
year of study, he. was admitted to the bar, and became a member 
of the firm of Culver, Parker and Arthur. 

Arthur had strong antislavery sympathies. Early in his career he 
won the celebrated Lemmon case, which decided whether a slave was 
liberated by being taken into a free state, while passing from one 
slave state to another. The decision in the affirmative was, of 
course, contested. Again, Arthur, as state’s attorney, associated with 
William M. Evarts as counsel, won the case, in the supreme court. 
The decision was confirmed by the court of appeals. In 1856 Arthur, 
always interested in politics, came before the public as a delegate 
to the Saratoga convention, where the Republican party was practi¬ 
cally born. 

When Edwin D. Morgan was elected governor of New York, he 
appointed Arthur engineer-in-chief on his staff, with the rank of 
brigadier-general. Arthur had already been judge-advocate general 
of the second brigade of the state militia, Because of his experience, 



CHESTER ALAN ARTHUR 


23 


when the rebellion broke out he was made quartermaster-general of 
New York, in which position he displayed remarkable administrative 
ability. A number of soldiers equal to nearly one-fifth of all that 
went to the front from that state, were clothed, uniformed, equipped 
and transported to the seat of action in an incredibly short time. 

In 1862 General Arthur was appointed inspector-general; but he 
lost this position a year later, when a Democratic state administration 
came in. He returned to his profession, and associated himself with 
Henry C. Gardner. Then he was alone for five years; after which 
he became the senior partner in the firm of Arthur, Phelps and 
Knevals. 

In 1871 President Grant appointed General Arthur to the important 
position of collector of the port of New York. Here he proved him¬ 
self most faithful, efficient and conscientious in the performance of 
duty. Many real reforms and improvements were instituted; men were 
advanced from the lower grades, and removed only for good cause. 
Nevertheless, when President Hayes succeeded General Grant, Arthur 
was requested to resign, owing to a desire on the President’s part 
to favor a factional minority of his party. Arthur refused to re¬ 
sign; and proved that under his charge the revenues had greatly 
increased, while the cost of collection had diminished. 

When General Arthur was nominated to the vice-presidency, in 
1880, there were two factions in the Republican party. Garfield, who 
was elected President, was a strong adherent of one, and Arthur’s 
nomination was intended to placate the other. As Vice-president, 
Arthur supported the President’s opponents; hence, when Garfield 
was assassinated and Arthur succeeded to the presidential chair, 
there was considerable unrest among the people. He took the oath 
of office as President before Judge Brady, of the New York supreme 
court, at his residence, 123 Lexington Avenue, New York City, imme¬ 
diately upon the death of Garfield, September 19, 1881. Three days 
later the oath was formally re-administered by Chief-Justice Waite, 
of the United States Supreme Court, in the Vice-president’s room in 
the Capitol at Washington, and there President Arthur delivered his 
inaugural address. 

The fears of those who had dreaded Arthur’s accession were quickly 
set aside by the latter’s manifest policy of moderation. The adminis¬ 
tration was an uneventful one. Arthur has been unfavorably criticized 
for lack of aggressiveness, but at that time aggressiveness would 
probably have injured, rather than benefited, the country. He was 
a true patriot, working always for his country’s good. During his 
term of office, measures were recommended for the better control of 
the Indian tribes. Stringent laws against polygamy in Utah were 


24 


CHESTER ALAN ARTHUR 



enacted. The President was opposed to extravagant appropriations, 
and won the approbation of many by vetoing the river and harbor 
bill of 1882. 

October 19, 1881, President Arthur attended the cen¬ 
tennial anniversary of the surrender of Cornwallis, at 
Yorktown, and a monument commemorating the event 
was dedicated at that place. English and German war¬ 
ships were present. At the close of the ceremony, 
President Arthur directed a salute to be fired in honor 
of the British, in recognition of the present friendly 
relations between America and England. The Presi¬ 
dent’s name was presented to the Republican national 
convention in Chicago, in 1884, but James G. Blaine re¬ 
ceived the nomination. 

In person, President Arthur was tall, well-proportioned, 
and of distinguished presence. At home, among personal 
friends, he was affable and generally beloved; while in official 
life his intercourse was marked by uniform courtesy. At the White 
House he was liberal in hospitality. He was a man of culture and 
literary taste. He retained what he read, and was quick to illus¬ 
trate a point by an anecdote, or by analogy. His state papers were 
simply worded and to the point. In all that pertained to his office 
he was conscientious and courageous to carry out his convictions. 

General Arthur was married, October 29, 1859, to Miss Ellen Lewis 
Herndon, of Fredericksburg, Virginia, daughter of Commander William 
Lewis Herndon, of the United States Navy. They had three chil¬ 
dren. The eldest died at the age of three years; the two others, 
Chester Alan, and Ellen Herndon, known as <( Nellie,* survived. Mrs. 
Arthur died in January of the year 1880, one year and a half before 
her husband’s accession to the presidential chair. During his presi¬ 
dency, his sister, Mrs. McElroy, was mistress of the White House, 
over which she presided with grace and dignity. 

Ex-President Arthur died of apoplexy, November 18, 1886, at his 
home in New York City. The funeral services took place the follow¬ 
ing Monday, at the Church of the Heavenly Rest. President Cleve¬ 
land and many other distinguished persons were present. The body 
was afterward taken to Albany and interred in the family plat in 
Rural Cemetery. 


2 5 


JOHN JACOB ASTOR 


A financial oak that grew from a small acorn. 


T he youngest of four sons of John Ashdoer, or Astor, a butcher, of 
Walldorf, Germany, John Jacob Astor, born in 1763, though 
designed to take his father’s trade, cut loose from a home which 
his stepmother rendered very unpleasant, and sought a home for 
himself. He learned of the good prospects of a brother who had 
gone to America, and determined to work his way there. With a 
small bundle of clothes over his shoulder, John Jacob set out on foot 
for the River Rhine, and managed to work his way to 
London, where one of his brothers gave him employ¬ 
ment in his piano factory. He entered London, as 
he has himself recorded it, <( with a pious, true and 
godly spirit, a clear understanding, good elbow grease 
and a wish to put it to good use.” For three years he 
remained there to learn the English language, save 
money, and find out all he could about America. In 
1783 he possessed a good suit of clothes and seventy-five 
dollars in money. He paid one-third of it for a steerage 
passage to America, invested the remainder in seven flutes, and 
embarked to seek his fortune. 

The passage was stormy. December gales delayed the vessel and 
she did not reach the Chesapeake until January. One of those 
perilous days, when a wreck was imminent, young Astor appeared 
on deck in his Sunday clothes. When asked his reason for it he 
replied, (< If I escape with my life I shall have my clothes; if I. lose 
my life my clothes will be of no use to me.” When the ship was 
within a day’s sail of port the wind ceased. The cold increased, and 
for an entire month the vessel was immovably wedged in a sea of 



ice. 

This long detention in the Chesapeake laid the foundation of Astor’s 
fortune. On board the vessel he made the acquaintance of a German 
engaged in the fur trade. Over their pipes, during the long winter 
nights in the bay, he related to young Astor his adventures among 
the Indians while in search of furs. He imparted the secrets of the 
business, and Astor learned how a few trinkets were made to play 



26 


JOHN JACOB ASTOR 


an important part in securing valuable skins which could be sold to 
furriers of New York with large gain, or in London at five times 
greater profit. All this information was carefully noted by young 
Astor, who, soon after landing at Baltimore, hurried on to New York, 
where his brother, Henry Astor, was already established. Securing 
a home in the family of a kind-hearted Quaker, John Jacob Astor 
was engaged day after day, summer and winter, in beating furs, at 
two dollars a week and his board. This was his introduction to a 
business in which his name was to go down to history as the most 
successful man of his time. 

In 1786, with a few dollars which he had saved as his capital, he 
set up business in Water Street, in which he did everything with his 
own hands — bought, cured, beat, sold and packed skins, laboring from 
dawn until dark. With his pack of trinkets on his back, he made 
long and dangerous journeys on foot, climbing mountains and ford¬ 
ing or swimming rivers, until he reached the forest homes of the 
Mohawk, Seneca, Oneida and other Indian tribes which traded in 
furs. As soon as he had secured a few bales of skins for the English 
market, he put them on a vessel and took passage in the steerage 
for London. 

He secured from the house of Astor and Broadwood, the American 
agency for their pianos, flutes and violins, and returned to renew 
his trade with the Indians. In 1790, seven years after his arrival, he 
was of sufficient importance to be registered in the New York direc¬ 
tory, as <( Astor, J. J., fur trader, 40 Little Dock Street. w About this 
time he took Peter Smith as a partner. He continued to travel from 
New York to Utica, and barter gewgaws for furs. Said a gentleman 
of Schenectady: “Many a time have I seen John Jacob Astor, with 
coat off, unpacking in a vacant yard near my residence a lot of furs 
he had bought dog-cheap of the Indians, and beating them out, clean¬ 
ing and repacking in more salable form, to be transported to Eng¬ 
land or Germany, where they were to yield him one thousand per 
cent on the original cost. M 

Astor married Miss Sarah Todd, who brought him a fortune of 
$300. She entered with zeal into the business, and soon became so 
good a judge of the finest furs that she never made a mistake in 
selecting those for the Chinese market. On Mr. Astor’s first visit 
to London, he went to the East India Company’s house and found the 
manager to be a German with a familiar name. They soon recog¬ 
nized each other as old schoolmates. The manager invited Astor to 
dine with him, and asked in what way he could serve his American 
friend. Astor replied that he needed neither cash nor credit. “ What 
present would be acceptable ?» He still declined any gratuity, but 


JOHN JACOB ASTOR 


27 


two days before sailing for home, Astor called to say good-by, when 
his friend handed him two papers, saying, <( These may be of service 
to you.” One was a Canton price list; the other an engrossed parch¬ 
ment, authorizing the ship that bore it to trade freely at any of the 
ports monopolized by the East India Company. This was the start¬ 
ing point of Astor’s splendid commercial trade with China, which he 
continued with immense profit for seventeen years. 

His first ship sailed for the East in 1800, and his share of the profits 
amounted to $55,000. On the outward passage she touched at the' 
Sandwich Islands for water, firewood and provisions. On her arrival 
at Canton, a mandarin who came on board noticed the' firewood and 
asked its price. The captain laughed at him, but the mandarin 
offered him $500 a ton, and said he would take it all. It was sandal¬ 
wood, and for nearly twenty years Astor held the monopoly of this 
trade. At last a shrewd Boston merchant, by sending one of his 
vessels to watch Astor, learned the secret. 

In spite of the embargo of 1807, Astor was determined to send a 
ship to China. While the shipowners of New York had their vessels 
lying idle in the harbor, they were astonished at the following notice 
in one of the daily papers: (< Yesterday the ship ( Beaver,’ Captain 
Galloway, sailed for China.” They knew it was Astor’s and indignantly 
set on foot an investigation, when it was found that he had a special 
permit from the President to carry home a Chinese mandarin. Rival 
merchants asserted that Astor had picked up a Chinese loafer on the 
wharf, dressed him in the garb of a mandarin, secured a permit from 
President Jefferson, and dispatched his vessel before the ruse was 
noised abroad. The charge was at last made to President 
Jefferson, and Astor’s friends enjoyed a hearty laugh. It 
was a pleasing matter, indeed, for the <( Beaver ” returned 
to New York the next year with $200,000 more than 
she had carried away. 

As the Chinese trade developed, Astor sent vessels 
to Oregon, where furs in great abundance could be 
bought very cheap. These he sold in China at a 
great profit, and invested the proceeds in teas which 
were brought back to New York and sold at one hundred 
per cent advance, thus quadrupling the profits of the regular 
tea merchants. But Astor’s greatest enterprise was his attempt to es¬ 
tablish the trading post of Astoria, on the Pacific coast. It failed, not 
from any want of foresight on the part of Mr. Astor, but because the 
War of 1812 prevented the government from sending a war vessel 
to protect the infant settlement. (< But for the war,” said Mr. Astor, 
(< I would have been the richest man that ever lived.” In 1800 he 



28 


JOHN JACOB ASTOR 


was worth a quarter of a million dollars, accumulated in the fur 
trade. His tastes were plain, and so continued throughout his life. 
His luxuries were a pipe and a mug of beer, a ride on horseback, 
and a first-night visit to old Park Theater. He was in active busi¬ 
ness for about forty-six years. 

In 1839 Mr. Astor began his arrangements to retire from business 
and undertook no more enterprises, except to make large invest¬ 
ments in real estate, which have since immensely increased the for¬ 
tunes of his descendants. He determined to fulfill his vow of early 
days, to build on Broadway a house larger and more costly than 
any the city could then boast. The ground was covered with sub¬ 
stantial three-story buildings of brick, one of which he occupied. 
He removed to a large, old-fashioned house on Broadway and put 
upon the door a silver plate, on which was inscribed (< Mr. Astor. ® 
When the hotel was finished, he offered it to his son, William B. 
Astor, for one dollar, and the bargain was closed. 

Personally, Mr. Astor was shrewd, enterprising, large-hearted and 
public spirited. In 1834, when the New York Life Insurance Com¬ 
pany had been robbed of $250,000, he offered the company a loan 
to tide it over. In his dealings with the Indians he was liberal. 
During his whole business career he was honored and respected. He 
had traveled much in Europe, and had acquired a good knowledge of 
French. At one time he was present at the court of Charles X., where 
he made the acquaintance of men of literature. By will he donated 
$400,000 to found the Astor Library, in accordance with a suggestion 
from Washington Irving. He left $50,000 for an orphanage in his 
native town of Walldorf, which was opened in 1854, and is still in 
operation under the name of (< Astor House.* Four-fifths of his estate 
was left to his son, William B. Astor. His only other son, and his 
namesake, met with an accident which blighted his prospects for busi¬ 
ness, though he was a poet of some merit. There were several daugh¬ 
ters. Mr. Astor died in 1848, at the advanced age of eighty-five. 
His son and business successor, William Backhouse Astor, who had 
also taken up the fur trade, in which he had amassed a considerable 
fortune, relinquished active business to give his attention to the very 
large estate inherited from his father. His management resulted in 
a fourfold increase in its value. It is said of him that so scrupu¬ 
lously systematic was he in his business habits and methods that, 
although he owned more than a thousand houses, he could name 
every one of his tenants. He gave above half a million dollars to 
the library founded by his father, and his generous charities were 
unnumbered. He was the largest builder of his day, having erected 
over seven hundred and fifty houses and stores, which enhanced the 


JOHN JACOB ASTOR 


2 9 


value of the estate to $200,000,000. The bulk of this was inherited 
by his two sons, John Jacob and William Astor. 

John Jacob Astor, the third, was singularly modest, retiring and 
unselfish, and superior to the common temptations of wealth. He knew 
the good that could be accomplished by the aid of a great fortune, 
and thousands of wretched lives were brightened by his timely assist¬ 
ance, bestowed quietly and without ostentation. It was a pleasure 
for him to give and to see its immediate results. In friendship he 
was constant and devoted. His library was his home and his favor¬ 
ite resort. He sought no political honors, but was nearly persuaded 
to accept from President Hayes the mission to England, for which 
his numerous trips to Europe had well prepared him, though after 
due consideration, he modestly declined it. By the same prudent and 
judicious management that had characterized his father and grand¬ 
father, he greatly increased his inheritance. He was a director and 
trustee in many enterprises, and was a vestryman in Trinity Church. 
His wife was Miss Charlotte Augusta Gibbes, of South Carolina, who 
gave large sums to charities. Everything she did met his approval. 
She contributed thousands to the Children’s Aid Societies, and thou¬ 
sands more to establish young boys and girls in homes in the West, 
where they could start life with better surroundings. She died in 
1887, honored and revered. Her collection of laces, the finest in the 
country, was given to the Metropolitan Museum, and she bequeathed 
large charities by her will. Few women in private life have exerted 
so wide an influence for good. Her name was universally honored 
and her death was widely lamented. Mr. Astor, after a life well 
spent in usefulness, crowned with esteem, followed her in 1890. 

Their son, William Waldorf Astor, engaged in political reforms 
and was nominated for Congress, but was defeated by Roswell P. 
Flower. Appointed Minister to Italy by President Arthur, in 1882, 
he attained wide social distinction. His ample means enabled him 
to entertain with the largest hospitality, while his attractive per¬ 
sonality brought him many friends. In Italy he studied the early 
history of that country, and the result appears in his novel <( Valen¬ 
tino, ® a copy of which he presented to Pope Leo XIII. His later 
novel, (< Sforza, w deals with the invasion of Italy by Charles VIII., of 
France, in 1494. He built the Netherlands Hotel, and later the 
Waldorf on the site of the old family residence in New York. In 
1890, Mr. Astor removed to London and bought one of the most beau¬ 
tiful mansions of that city. With a taste for journalism, he bought 
the “Pall Mall Gazette,* and later established the “Pall Mall Mag¬ 
azine. ® As a financier, he has made a departure from the course of 
his ancestors by investing in railroads. He became a permanent 


3° 


JOHN JACOB ASTOR 


citizen of England and renounced his allegiance to the United States 
— a rare thing, indeed, for an American-born person to do. His 
large wealth enables him to live in almost royal style. 

William Astor, second son of William B. Astor, was devoted to 
travel. He bought property extensively in Florida, erected large 
blocks in Jacksonville, and built railroads for which the legislature 
of Florida granted him eighty thousand acres of land. His son, John 
Jacob Astor, is also a great traveler, and author of (< Journeys in 
Other Worlds, w a romance of the future. On the outbreak of the war 
with Spain he presented his yacht to the government. He also 
equipped a full field battery at his own expense and offered it, with 
his personal services, to the government. He was commissioned its 
commander, and went with it to the Philippines, where he served 
until honorably discharged. 

It cannot be said that the descendants of John Jacob Astor have 
in any way brought discredit upon their worthy sire. They have 
been good citizens, carefully guarding and husbanding their wealth, 
while spending with liberal hands for benevolence and for enterprises 
that make for the betterment of mankind. The family millions, 
largely invested in New York City, are many, and they are daily 
and hourly increasing. The descendants who share them are also 
growing in number. The Vanderbilt family affords the only parallel 
to the Astor, in the wide-spreading tree that has grown from a small 
beginning, a hundred years ago. 


GEORGE BANCROFT 


IVho both wrote ami helped to make history. 


A name which stands high among those of American men of letters 
and statesmen, is that of George Bancroft, the historian. He 
was born at Worcester, Massachusetts, in 1800. His father, 
Rev. Aaron Bancroft, was pastor of a church in Worcester for more 
than fifty years. The training which George received at home laid 
the foundation for the broad, strong character that marked him dur¬ 
ing his long, active and useful life. During his early years, how¬ 
ever, parental influence was not sufficient to restrain his youth¬ 
ful spirits, and his love of mischief often brought him 
into trouble. He was in no sense vicious, though he was i 
known throughout the community as a (< wild boy. w But 
his character developed rapidly, and at ten years he had 
become steady and studious. At the age of eleven he 
entered Phillips Academy, at Exeter, New Hampshire, 
where he spent two years in preparing himself for ;,J 
college. He was but thirteen when he entered Har¬ 
vard, but became at once conspicuous in his class for 
his studious habit, the quick grasp of his mind and the * 
thoroughness with which he mastered whatever he under¬ 
took. There was nothing superficial or shallow in his methods. His 
favorite subjects of study were metaphysics and moral philosophy. 
For one so young, his comprehension of these abstruse branches was 
remarkable. After four years of successful work, he graduated at 
seventeen — about the age when most youths who enter college begin 
their studies. For many years before the death of Mr. Bancroft, he 
was the oldest living graduate of Harvard. 

Young Bancroft gave promise of a brilliant future. What particu¬ 
lar line of thought and labor would give shape to his career was not 
yet apparent, but it could not be doubted that he would win distinc¬ 
tion in his chosen field of effort. No sooner had he quitted Harvard 
than he planned a comprehensive scheme of higher study, embracing 
almost the entire circle of sacred and profane history, and ancient and 
modern literature. His father was able, fortunately, to gratify the 
desire of his son for a course of study abroad, and at eighteen he 
went to Germany, to drink at the fountains of learning, in which 




3 2 


GEORGE BANCROFT 


that country led the world. He spent two years at Gottingen, where, 
before he was twenty, he received the degree of Doctor of Philosophy. 
Here he studied the German, French, Italian, Arabic and Hebrew 
lanQfuaees and literature, as well as the literature of ancient Greece 
and Rome. An enthusiastic admirer of Plato, he studied the works 
of that philosopher and read nearly all of his writings in the original 
Greek. By this time the bent of Bancroft’s mind and literary taste 
had become so clearly defined that he decided on history as the 
branch for special attention and work. 

The ardent young student next went to Berlin, where he spent 
more than a year in delving still deeper into the rich mines of 
literature. He studied unremittingly and attended the lectures of 
profound historical scholars. His attainments, extraordinary for one 
of his years, together with his high character and purity of life, 
attracted much attention in the most cultured circles of the Prus¬ 
sian capital, and he was a frequent and always welcome guest in the 
homes of many distinguished men, among them Baron von Humboldt, 
the founder of Berlin University, and at this time Minister of Public 
Instruction. While here he became interested in the science of gov¬ 
ernment and made a careful study of the Prussian system. This 
proved valuable to him in later years, when he was called to serve 
his own country in the administrative and diplomatic branches of 
the government. Bancroft devoted a year to further study at the 
renowned university at Heidelberg. During his stay in Germany, he 
passed his college vacations in visiting neighboring cities and in 
short country trips for sight-seeing and recreation. Before his return 
to America, he spent a year in visiting other countries. His tour 
included a month in England, a tour on foot through beautiful 
Switzerland, stops at Paris and other cities of France, and eight 
months in Italy, where he studied ecclesiastical government, and 
visited nearly all the places of interest. He sailed for home in 
1822, after four years in Europe, during which he had acquired a 
depth and breadth of learning and a fund of information which, at 
his age of twenty-two, was almost without precedent. In the com¬ 
pleteness and thoroughness of his mental equipment, he had reached 
a point rarely attained by scholars even ten years later in life. 

Bancroft’s father felt a pardonable pride in his son, and was ex¬ 
tremely desirous that he should enter the ministry. George yielded 
for a time to his solicitations, and took a brief course of theological 
study. At the same time he served as tutor in Greek at Harvard Uni¬ 
versity, which position, at urgent request, he had consented to fill 
for a year. Rather to gratify his father than from any desire on his 
own part, he tried to preach, and occupied his father’s pulpit two or 


GEORGE BANCROFT 


33 


three times. It is said of him, in a sketch published after his death, 
referring to his brief ministerial experience, that <( his manner was 
regarded as somewhat superficial, and so different from that which 
was usual at the time in the pulpit, as to prevent religious services 
as conducted by him from being wholly acceptable, to either his father 
or his father’s congregation.” It was clear that he was not intended 
for the ministry, and his father did not press the matter further. 

In 1823, in conjunction with Dr. Joseph G. Cogswell, Bancroft 
established the Round Hill School, at Northampton, Massachusetts. 
It was projected to prepare youths for collegiate study, and several 
learned young men of Germany were employed as teachers. The 
standard was set too high and the expense of the school was too 
great, so that it proved a financial failure, and after seven years 
was abandoned. Yet the institution did much toward improving the 
system of study and the class of text-books used. In connection 
with this enterprise, Mr. Bancroft endeavored to make practical use 
of some of the ideas that he had gained during his stay in Europe. 
While at Northampton, he published a small volume of poems, de¬ 
scriptive of the natural beauties of Switzerland and Italy. Later in 
life, when his reputation — not in the realm of poesy — had been 
established, he repented the publication of his immature verse, which 
he characterized as a (< youthful indiscretion,” and did all he could to 
withdraw the volume from circulation. He wrote no more poetry. 
History was his proper field, and in connection with his work at the 
Round Hill School he began the great enterprise which made his 
name illustrious — a comprehensive history of the United States. 
His research and labor in carrying out this undertaking were, how¬ 
ever, much broken by diversions into politics, statesmanship and 
diplomacy. 

In 1830 he was elected to the General Court, but his candidacy 
had been forced, contrary to his expressed wishes, and he declined 
to take the seat. The next year he declined a nomination to the state 
senate, although his election would have been assured. At this time 
he had resolved that he would not be beguiled by the allurements 
of political life. A few years later he was prevailed upon to recon¬ 
sider this determination, and to become the candidate of the Dem¬ 
ocratic party for member of Congress. But his was a Whig district 
and he was defeated. President Van Buren appointed him collector 
of customs at Boston, and the intelligence, vigor and honesty with 
which he performed his duties won the applause even of his political 
opponents. At that time bonds were accepted for duties, and under 
other collectors, unpaid bonds to a large amount had accumulated as 
debts due the government. Not a single bond taken during the 
x—3 


34 


GEORGE BANCROFT 



term of Mr. Bancroft was unpaid when he resigned the office, and 
his collections had amounted to several million dollars. He found 
time to pursue his literary work and also to make political speeches. 
He was a popular orator and had become prominent in the politics of 
Massachusetts. In 1844 he was the candidate of his party for gov¬ 
ernor, but was defeated, although he received a 
larger vote than had ever before been cast in 
that state for a Democratic candidate. 

But in the same year his party elected its can¬ 
didate for President, and on Mr. Polk’s 
accession, in March following, he called Mr. 
Bancroft into his Cabinet. He first appointed him 
attorney-general, for he had supposed him to be a lawyer. 
Bancroft told the President that he had been educated for 
the church and not for the bar, and he was then made Sec¬ 
retary of the Navy. His administration was characterized by rigid 
economy in every branch of the naval establishment. He performed 
a signal service for the country by the creation of the Naval Acad¬ 
emy, at Annapolis, Maryland. After a year and a half in the Cabi¬ 
net, he resigned to accept the position of minister plenipotentiary to 
England. He discharged his diplomatic duties with the same zeal, 
fidelity and ability that he had shown at Washington. He negoti¬ 
ated a postal treaty with England, which was ratified by the govern¬ 
ments of both countries. At London his high personal character, 
not less than his exalted official rank, was a passport to the first 
social circles, and the distinguished American received every mark 
of consideration. The record of Mr. Bancroft’s official life may be 
finished here. In 1867 President Johnson appointed him Minister to 
Prussia. He was afterward accredited to the German empire, and 
remained at Berlin till 1874. He was now past threescore and ten, 
and his return to America marked his retirement from public life. 

Although Mr. Bancroft’s public services were eminent, he is best 
known for his exhaustive and invaluable (< History of the United 
States. w Strictly speaking, it is not, however, a history of the United 
States during its national existence, for it covers only the formative 
period, from the landing of the Pilgrims on Plymouth Rock to the 
adoption of the Constitution in 1789. It was published, from time 
to time, in ten volumes, but these have been re-formed into six vol¬ 
umes. In addition to these are two volumes devoted solely to a his¬ 
tory of the Constitution itself. Mr. Bancroft projected this great 
literary enterprise when he was about twenty-five, and began work 
upon it, as has been said, while he was engaged in his private school 
at Northampton. The last volume was published in 1874, so that the 


GEORGE BANCROFT 


35 


<( History» was constantly in his thoughts and largely absorbed his 
time and effort for fully half a century. 

The labor of preparing so full and authentic a history of the early 
days was infinitely greater than that of one who undertakes to write 
more modern history, with a wealth of material at his hand, to the 
most minute detail. It will be readily understood that the records of 
the early colonial period were sparse, fragmentary and difficult of 
access. Many documents of great historical value had passed into 
private hands, where they were treasured as mementos of the olden 
days. In many cases these could not be found, and the lack had to 
be supplied from such sources of information as were available. 
Often when in quest of important facts, Mr. Bancroft seemed to find 
his way completely blocked, but his unflagging persistence, that would 
not be baffled, surmounted every obstacle. The pure literary style 
of the work is such as to challenge criticism. It is often severely 
plain, but simple and direct, with an entire freedom from attempts 
to embellish for rhetorical effect. It is in the largest sense the work 
of a scholar — one who apprehended the true scope of the historian, 
to record the truth, without bias, fear or favor. The early volumes 
of the long series fixed, in the estimation of the literary world, the 
high character of the work. Each volume created a desire for its 
successor, and each in turn was most cordially welcomed. Such is 
its recognized value, that the entire work has been translated and 
printed in the languages of Europe. It is rightly esteemed one of the 
noblest monuments of American literature. 

Mr. Bancroft lived to the ripe age of ninety-one years. After his 
return from Europe, in 1874, he established his summer residence at 
Newport, Rhode Island, and his winter home in Washington. He was 
fond of riding on horseback and spent hours each 
day, when the weather permitted, in the saddle. 

His kindly face, with white hair and beard, was 
a familiar sight in the streets and suburbs of 
Washington. Mr. Bancroft was a natural ora¬ 
tor and was always popular as a public speaker. - _ 

He was selected by Congress to deliver the eulogy 
on Lincoln, in February, 1866, and his address on 
that occasion was finished and scholarly, a master- •• 
piece of oratory. He was a member of many learned societies, and 
was everywhere recognized as one who had fairly earned the fame 
with which the world had crowned him. Few, indeed, have enjoyed 
so wide an acquaintance as did Mr. Bancroft, with the distinguished 
men of this and other countries. Full of years and of honors, his 
life peacefully ended, January 17, 1891. 


f 



3 6 


NATHANIEL PRENTISS BANKS 


Mechanic , lawyer, statesman and soldier. 


F ew men have had a more checkered career, or one covering a 
wider range of public service, than this legislator and soldier. 
Of obscure parentage, he gave no promise in early life that he 
would rise above mediocrity. But he reached the high position of 
Speaker of the lower house of Congress, in which he won distinguished 
honor as a presiding officer. When war came he leaped into the 
saddle and went to the field, but in this important sphere of 
duty Fortune did not bestow her favors upon him. He 
held important commands, for his previous life had been 
one to inspire confidence, but in achievement, or lack of 
achievement, he was disappointing. War is largely a 
game of chance. A commander of unquestioned ability 
and highest courage may, by an accidental circum¬ 
stance, be overwhelmed in ignoble disaster and 
defeat. Another, no better equipped to command 
than he, may, by a fortunate happening, be lifted 
to the pinnacle of success and fame. In the case 
of General Banks, no great victories stand in the 
account to his credit. That he gave his best efforts, his most loyal 
and faithful service, cannot for a moment be questioned; but those 
who hold to the doctrine of fatalism may well believe that it was 
not for him to win the chaplet of laurel with which the world loves 
to crown the victor. 

Nathaniel Prentiss Banks was born in Waltham, Massachusetts, 
in 1816. His parents were poor and he began early in life as a bread¬ 
winner. While but a boy, he was employed in a cotton factory; later, 
he learned the trade of machinist. In his younger days he developed 
an ability for public speaking and no little aptitude for the drama. 
When a young man he was the ruling spirit in an amateur dramatic 
association. A number of plays were produced, in which Banks ac¬ 
quitted himself with such high credit that his friends believed the 
stage to be his proper field. For a time he was inclined to become 
an actor, and he probably would have done so but for his strong 
inclination to enter politics. He attached himself to the Democratic 
party, and began to make speeches at public meetings, with such sue- 




NATHANIEL PRENTISS BANKS 


37 


cess as to attract attention outside of the circle of his acquaintance. 
As a stepping-stone to a political career, he studied law, and at the 
same time edited the local newspaper of his party. These favoring 
conditions brought him into prominence, and President Polk appointed 
him to a position in the Boston customhouse. He was now fairly 
launched upon the political current, and preferment was rapid. In 
1849 he was elected to the Massachusetts legislature; two years later 
he was reelected and chosen Speaker, in which station he won high 
honors for his fairness as a presiding officer and his skill in parlia¬ 
mentary law. 

In 1852 Banks entered a larger field of political activity, by his 
election to Congress. By this time, however, his views had under¬ 
gone a change, as had those of thousands of others in the North, in 
consequence of the agitation of the slavery question. There was a 
breaking away from the Democratic party and a readjustment of 
political lines. Banks enrolled himself among those who opposed the 
extension of slavery, and was ready to connect himself with the Re¬ 
publican party, which, however, had not yet been organized. He took 
his seat in Congress in December, 1853, and in 1854 he was reelected. 
That which was fitly characterized as the <( irrepressible conflict ” had 
begun, and there was a bitter and protracted struggle to secure the 
Speakership of the House, between the Democrats on the one hand 
and the various opposing elements on the other. This began in De¬ 
cember, 1855. The Democrats were in a small minority, but it was 

found impossible to unite the opposition, which was composed of 
<( old line” Whigs, radical Free-Soilers, Know-nothings, and conserva¬ 
tive antislavery men like Banks. All these combined had votes 
enough to elect a Speaker at any time, but the diversity of opinion 
was too great, and all efforts to secure a perfect combination failed. 

One candidate after another was tried, to test his (< availability,” and 

many times during that long contest the opposition candidate lacked 
but four or five votes of a majority. But the few whose votes were 
needed were like the stubborn twelfth member of a jury, and there 
was no result. After the opposition had experimented with a num¬ 
ber of candidates, and many weeks had elapsed, the name of Nathaniel 
P. Banks was presented. The high repute which he had won as 
Speaker of the Massachusetts house of representatives was in his 
favor, while his position, midway between the extremes, made him 
more generally acceptable than other candidates had been. But there 
was still a lack of two or three votes to make a majority of the 
House. Two whole months had been consumed in the struggle, 
which was wholly without precedent, and the public business was 
suffering. Banks was elected on the one hundred and thirty-third 


33 


NATHANIEL PRENTISS BANKS 


ballot, although this was only accomplished by the adoption of a reso¬ 
lution declaring that a plurality of votes, instead of a majority, should 
suffice to elect. The House was a turbulent body during that Con¬ 
gress, and the occasion demanded of its presiding officer the highest 
exercise of skill, tact, fairness and parliamentary knowledge. So well 
did Speaker Banks discharge his difficult and delicate duties, that at 
the end of the session he received the compliment of a unanimous 
vote of thanks for his marked ability and impartiality. Banks was 
lifted into prominence, and in 1857, was elected governor of Mas¬ 
sachusetts, which position he held for three successive terms. 

Immediately after the Civil War began, Banks offered his services 
to the government and was commissioned a major-general. His first 
notable service was during the early part of 1862, when he commanded 
a force operating in the Shenandoah Valley. He had a formidable 
adversary in (< Stonewall w Jackson, always alert, active and ener¬ 
getic. A number of sharp engagements occurred, the most im¬ 
portant of which was at Cedar Mountain. The result of the campaign 
was favorable to Jackson, who cleared the Valley of the Federal forces 
and then hastened to join Lee, who was in a mighty grapple with 
McClellan almost at the gates of Richmond. 

In December, 1862, Banks succeeded General Butler in the com¬ 
mand of the Department of the Gulf, with headquarters at New 
Orleans. A most important duty which devolved upon him was 
to cooperate with General Grant in opening the Mississippi River. 
Vicksburg and Port Hudson, the latter in Louisiana, were the two 
principal points which had been strongly fortified, and were held in 
large force by the Confederates. At the same time that Grant was to 
operate against Vicksburg, Banks was to undertake the reduction of 
Port Hudson. The latter took the field in person and showed great 
enterprise in his movements. He invested Port Hudson at the end 
of May, 1863, after an unsuccessful assault in which he lost above two 
thousand men. Another attempt to carry the works by storm was 
made June 14, but this, too, was unsuccessful, after eighteen hundred 
men had been killed or wounded. The fall of Vicksburg, July 4, sealed 
the fate of Port Hudson, and it was surrendered to Banks on the 9th, 
with fifty-one cannon and six thousand four hundred prisoners, after 
a siege of forty-five days. 

In the spring of 1864, General Banks organized and personally 
commanded an expedition to the upper Red River. It was intended 
to penetrate, if possible, as far as Shreveport, in the extreme north¬ 
west corner of Louisiana. A well-equipped force, believed to be 
adequate, left New Orleans in March, on a fleet of some twenty 
transports, convoyed by a strong naval squadron under the command 


NATHANIEL PRENTISS BANKS 


39 


of Admiral David D. Porter. A cooperating column under General 
A. J. Smith was detached from the Army of Grant in northern Mis¬ 
sissippi. The expedition ended in defeat and disaster. Banks reached 
a point near Natchitoches, and within one hundred and fifty miles of 
Shreveport, which is seven hundred miles from New Orleans. The 
fleet and the army kept as near together as possible, for mutual pro¬ 
tection and assistance. The Confederates, commanded by Lieutenant- 
general Richard Taylor, were exceedingly active. They assailed 
detachments of the Union army at every opportunity, and batteries 
planted on the bluffs and at the bends in the river gave great an¬ 
noyance and did serious damage to the gunboats. In the early part 
of April, Banks encountered the enemy in strong force and two en¬ 
gagements followed. The result was favorable to the Confederates 
and Banks determined to retreat. This decision was hastened by the 
low stage of water in the river, which rendered navigation so difficult 
and dangerous as to threaten the safety of the fleet. As ill fortune 
would have it, not before in twenty years had the water been so low 
at that season. 

During the retreat of two hundred miles to Alexandria, the large 
fleet of gunboats and transports experienced the greatest difficulty 
in navigating the fallen river. The channel was tortuous and clogged 
with snags and stumps, and it was only with the greatest difficulty 
that any progress was made. Near Alexandria an obstacle was en¬ 
countered which it was believed must prove fatal to the fleet. At 
this point is a long, shallow stretch called the << falls, ,> ex¬ 
tending for nearly a mile. The channel is filled with 
rocks, and vessels can only pass at a high stage of water. 

The fleet had gone up without difficulty some weeks be¬ 
fore, but now the water had fallen so low that no boat 
could possibly go over the rapids. The situation was a 
desperate one. There seemed to be no way to get the 
fleet over the shoals, and if the army continued its re¬ 
treat, all the vessels must inevitably fall into the hands 
of the enemy unless destroyed. Relief came from a 
wholly unexpected source; there was a man for the 
emergency. Joseph Bailey, lieutenant-colonel of the Fourth 
Wisconsin volunteers, had spent his life on the water courses 
of the Northwest, engaged in lumbering, and had learned the value of 
dams to cause an artificial rise of water at desired points in variable 
streams. The condition of Porter’s fleet suggested to him a series 
of dams, by which the water of the broad, shallow river might be 
forced into a volume at the center, on which the vessels could be 
floated to the deeper water below. Bailey communicated his idea 



40 


NATHANIEL PRENTISS BANKS 


to General Franklin, his corps commander, who thought well of it, 
and laid the plan before Banks and Porter. They had little faith 
in its success, but it offered the only hope of saving the fleet, and 
Bailey was told to go ahead and see what he could do. There were 
two or three regiments of Maine lumbermen in Banks’s army, and 
the men composing them proved valuable assistants. Three thousand 
men and every available resource of material were placed at Bailey’s 
disposal. It need only be said here that his success was complete. 
By means of <( wing » and <( crib w dams he raised the water in the 
channel more than six feet, and upon the crest of the rushing torrent 
so created, the gunboats passed down in safety. No man ever was 
more overwhelmed with congratulations than was Colonel Bailey; 
certainly no man had better deserved them. The extraordinary 
nature of the service he had rendered the government was recog¬ 
nized at Washington. Congress gave him a vote of thanks by name, 
a most exalted honor, and the President commissioned him a briga¬ 
dier-general. General Bailey met an ignoble death a few years after 
the war. He had removed to the far West and was elected sheriff. 
He was shot and killed by a prisoner whom he had arrested and 
whom, with a singular lack of prudence, he had neglected to dis¬ 
arm. 

Banks at length reached New Orleans, with his army in a much 
demoralized condition. He was relieved from his command and soon 
afterward resigned his commission. In the autumn of that year he 
was elected to Congress, and was reelected for three successive 
terms. In 1872, he favored the candidacy of Greeley for President, 
against Grant, and this affected his popularity to such a degree that 
he was that year defeated for Congress. In 1878 he was appointed 
United States Marshal at Boston, which position he filled for a period 
of ten years. In 1888, at the age of seventy-two, he was again elected 
to Congress. He died in 1894. 


4 1 


CLARA BARTON 


An angel of mercy under the Red Cross. 

B earing the sign of the <( Red Cross, w this noble woman, who has 
consecrated her life to the cause of humanity, may well be 
styled the Florence Nightingale of America. She was born at 
North Oxford, Massachusetts, in 1830. Her father was with General 
<( Mad w Anthony Wayne in the Revolution. When quite young she 
founded a seminary for girls at Elizabeth, New Jersey, 
and later became a clerk in the Patent Office, in 
Washington — the first woman to hold a regular 
clerk’s position in a government department. At 
the beginning of the Civil War, she devoted her¬ 
self to the care of the sick and wounded, and 
was prominent in the organization of the Sani¬ 
tary Commission. Her personal work was in 
the Army of the Potomac. She was present at 
many of the battles, including Cedar Mountain, 

Second Manassas, Chantilly, Antietam, and Fred¬ 
ericksburg, the siege of Charleston and the storming of Fort Wagner, 
Spottsylvania, the Wilderness, and in front of Petersburg. At the 
end of the war she was active in aiding the Union soldiers released 
from Andersonville and other prisons. She organized the bureau of 
records of missing men, which important work she began before 
the close of the war, by the personal order of President Lincoln. 

When the Franco-Prussian War broke out, she went to Europe and 
joined in the work of the Red Cross Society. She helped to organize 
the German hospital service, and nursed the sick and wounded at 
Strasburg and Metz. During the days of the Commune in Paris, she 
entered that city on foot and distributed food and clothing to the 
needy. She was decorated with orders of the Golden Cross of Baden 
and the Iron Cross of Germany. 

Miss Barton returned home in 1873, and inaugurated a movement 
to secure the Government’s recognition of the Red Cross Society, 
and during President Arthur’s administration she was successful. 
An organization of the society in America was perfected and she be¬ 
came its president in 1882. When the great forest fires occurred in 




42 


CLARA BARTON 


Michigan, she superintended the work of aiding the sufferers. As 
soon as the earthquake at Charleston was announced over the tele¬ 
graph, she started with supplies for the stricken people. The next 
year she was active in the reform prison movement at Sherborn, 
Massachusetts. The year following, she was disbursing food, cloth¬ 
ing and money to the sufferers by the floods in the Ohio and Mis¬ 
sissippi rivers. Later she was at Johnstown, Pennsylvania, when that 
city had been swept by a rush of water, by the bursting of a reser¬ 
voir in the Conemaugh Valley, resulting in the loss of three thousand 
lives. 

Miss Barton was requested by the Senate committee on foreign 
relations to prepare a history of the Red Cross Association, which 
the government has since published. From her observations during 
the Civil War, she declared that in the future the sick and dying in 
hospitals should be protected from the attacks of the enemy. Her 
idea has been adopted by all nations, and now no shots are aimed at 
the tents or buildings over which flies the white flag with the red 
cross. No soldier was braver and no patriot truer than Clara Barton, 
and wherever that noble company of women known as the Red Cross 
Society seeks to alleviate the condition of those who suffer, there this 
tireless angel moves on her pathway of blessing. Even before hos¬ 
tilities in the Spanish War had begun, Clara Barton was distributing 
supplies to the starving Cubans. Regardless of insult and danger, 
she was at her post, and when the war began her work broadened 
into its full scope. In regard to this she has spoken in <( Our Work 
and Observations in Cuba.® She says: — 

<( It was far back in 1897, that I was made aware of the intention of 
our President to address a personal appeal to the people of the United 
States with a view to afford relief to the perishing population of Cuba. 
These supplies came in abundance and they were consigned to Consul- 
general Lee. Sunday was the day of distribution. The first sight of this, 
as we drove from door to door, is not easily forgotten — the crowds of 
gaunt and hungry people, the streets filled with half-clad, eager masses of 
humanity, waiting, watching, for the little packages, for the morsels that 
were to interpose between them and the death that threatened them. 
About twelve thousand received rations that day. 

(< Where do these wretched people stay ? In a large, old establishment 
that had once been one of the defenses of the city. A visit to it revealed 
what human wretchedness could mean. On those dark, bare, filthy floors 
were huddled from six hundred to eight hundred human beings, chiefly 
women and children. Very few could walk; a piece of a blanket or shawl; 
often no dress; no mattress. It required but a few days to get well- 
cooked food served twice a day; cots and clothing for all; rooms parti¬ 
tioned off; kind physicians glad to serve; brooms and brushes into the 


CLARA BARTON 


43 


hands of those who had strength to use them. The old gave way to the 
new. Supplies came in larger shipments. The cordiality that met us on 
all sides was remarkable. 

(< Only five days after our arrival I took luncheon with Captain Sigs- 
bee, on the ( Maine. > Thirty hours later, the doors and windows of our 
rooms rattled and flew open; the thunder of the heaviest artillery pealed 
over the city and the heavens were filled with lurid blaze and bursting 
bombs. We have little need of the poet’s stirring battle cry, ( Remember 
the w Maine.”* We who saw her destruction, the agony of her survivors 
and the burial of her dead, can never cease to remember. Before the end 
of the first week we had commenced sending to the country towns all the 
food that could be spared from Havana. When the ( Vigilancia * came in 
with fifty-two tons, we thought that Jaruco, twenty miles east, which had 
suffered greatly, and as yet had received no aid, should be remembered. 
A royal welcome awaited us. The mayor, judge, doctor and priest, who 
led the way to the church, followed by a crowd that filled the entire 
center, knelt in prayer with tears of gratitude to God that at length some 
one had remembered them, and as the word < America > in broken accents 
burst out in their sobbing prayers, we remembered the plentiful, peaceful, 
American homes and happy hearts, and thanked God that we were one 
of them. The town grew comfortable and happy under its rations of food, 
and the cleansing of its hospitals. Matanzas was next visited. The con¬ 
dition of its hospitals was beyond description. We gave all we had to 
give, with a promise to send more upon the next arrival in Havana, and 
the next train fulfilled our promise. Such was our work when the notifi¬ 
cation came to take all Americans from the island, and we obediently 
withdrew. From no authorities on the island have we ever received any 
but the most considerate and courteous treatment.” 


In the summer of 1900, Galveston, Texas, was visited by an ap¬ 
palling calamity, by which a considerable part of the city was 
destroyed. Not less than four thousand lives were lost, and many 
thousand men, women and children were left homeless and desti¬ 
tute. The whole nation responded liberally to the call for help. 

But money alone was not sufficient; personal service to care 
for the suffering was sorely needed. Though seventy 
years of age, Miss Barton gave instant response. She « 
went to Galveston and directed the organized, systematic 
effort of the Red Cross Society, bringing immediate relief 
to a multitude of people who had been without food, cloth¬ 
ing or shelter. In all her labors in the cause of humanity, 

Miss Barton has known neither nationality, race, color nor 
religion. Wherever there was human suffering, by reason 
of war, pestilence, famine, fire or flood, there has been her work. 
Her name will be gratefully remembered long after she shall have 
passed to her reward. 





44 


PIERRE GUSTAVE TOUTANT BEAUREGARD 


Who began the Civil War at Fort Sumter. 




T he name of Beauregard is familiar to all readers of the history 
of the Civil War. He was one of many officers, on both sides, 
who enjoyed a boundless popularity at the beginning, but whose 
bright promise of great achievement was not realized in later years, 
when the glamour of martial array had faded and the war had be¬ 
come a question of hard blows, delivered or parried with the utmost 
skill of military science. During the first months of the war Beaure¬ 
gard was the most conspicuous figure in the Confederate army. He 
had belonged to the engineers in the United States army and had 
made his mark as a skilled officer. He was chosen to supervise the 
erection of the forts at Charleston and to direct the operations 
J 0 P against Fort Sumter. So it was that at the very 

outset he leaped into fame; his name was on 
every tongue. None had yet heard of Robert 
E. Lee, or "Stonewall® Jackson, or Sidney John¬ 
ston or Longstreet, whose names stand high on the 
list of the great soldiers of the war on the side 
of the Confederacy. Even "Joe® Johnston, who 
had been a brigadier-general in the "old army,® 
while Beauregard was but a captain, was for the 
time eclipsed by the former captain of engineers, 
who had passed between him and the public eye. 
Then, in the first notable battle of the war, Johnston occu¬ 
pied the anomalous position of being actually second in command, 
with Beauregard as his chief. The "Hero of Fort Sumter® and of 
Bull Run became at once an idol to the people of the South; but 
the worship of the populace is fickle and it was soon transferred to 
others. 

Pierre Gustave Toutant Beauregard was born in New Orleans, in 
1S18. His French descent is clearly indicated by his name. The 
family emigrated from the parent country during the French occupa¬ 
tion of the Louisiana Territory. Early in life, Pierre developed a 
military taste, and when he had reached the prescribed age, he had 
no difficulty in securing an appointment to the LTnited States Military 
Academy, from which he was graduated in 1838. He was made a 




PIERRE GUSTAVE TOUTANT BEAUREGARD 


45 


second lieutenant of engineers, but found no opportunity to win 
distinction until the Mexican War began. For his very marked abil¬ 
ity and gallantry at Contreras, Churubusco and Chapultepec, he was 
twice brevetted, and came out of that war with high honors. In 1853 
he became a captain of engineers, and for some years was in charge 
of the military defenses of Louisiana. 

Near the end of i860, Beauregard was appointed superintendent 
of the Military Academy at West Point. At this time civil war was 
impending, and it seemed strongly probable that the North and the 
South would soon be engaged in armed conflict. It was understood, 
and probably it is true, that this position was offered to Beauregard 
in the hope that it might serve to keep him from giving his military 
ability and experience to the cause of the South. As a non-combatant 
at the Academy, he would be spared the painful position of being 
compelled to fight against either his own people or many of his 
brother officers in the army. Beauregard was not to be held in 
such a trap. He accepted the offered position — considered in the 
army a very desirable one — and entered upon its duties, but his in¬ 
cumbency was brief. The war cloud was hourly growing more dark. 
Weeks before the storm burst, he was called to engage in the very 
act that was to precipitate the conflict. Seven states had seceded, 
and a provisional government had been organized, with its capital at 
Montgomery, Alabama. When it was decided to reduce Fort Sumter, 
Beauregard was chosen to conduct the operations. Apprised of this, 
he immediately resigned his position at the Academy and his com¬ 
mission in the army, and was at once made a brigadier-general in 
the Confederate service. This was in the latter part of February, 
nearly two months before the beginning of hostilities. 

General Beauregard repaired to Charleston and entered upon the 
work with which he had been charged. Under his direction, a large 
force of men was employed in the erection of forts and batteries for 
the reduction of Sumter. The United States forces in Charleston 
harbor were commanded by Major Robert Anderson, a Kentuckian 
by birth, who stood loyally by his flag. Nearly two months before, 
in view of the hostile preparations which thus early had been begun, 
Major Anderson had evacuated Fort Moultrie, a work on Sullivan’s 
Island, at the main entrance to the harbor. He had but a small 
force, and had deemed it wise to abandon this post and assemble 
his entire command within the strong walls of Sumter. By the early 
part of April, Beauregard’s preparations were near completion, and 
on the eleventh of that month he sent to Major Anderson a de¬ 
mand for the surrender of Fort Sumter. The demand was refused, 
and on the following day, April 12, was fired the first gun of the 


46 PIERRE GUSTAVE TOUTANT BEAUREGARD 

Civil War, as the Confederate batteries opened on the fort, from all 
points within the range of their artillery. Soon the heavy guns of 
Sumter replied, and for two days and nights the contest continued. 
The woodwork of the garrison’s quarters took fire and burned with 
great fury. The supply of food and ammunition was nearly ex¬ 
hausted. More than a month earlier the United States Government 
had sent a vessel to revictual the fort, but she had been fired upon 
and driven off by the Confederate artillery. The capture of the fort 
was inevitable. After two days of gallant resistance, the flag was 
hauled down on the fourteenth. The entire garrison numbered little 
more than a hundred. 

When the echo of the first hostile gun at Sumter had reached Wash¬ 
ington, President Lincoln’s call for seventy-five thousand volunteers 
was issued, and was immediately met by a similar call from Jeffer¬ 
son Davis, the provisional President of the Confederate states. At 
once the beat of the war drums was heard in every town and hamlet, 
throughout the North and the South. The Southern people were 
thrown into a paroxysm of joy over the fall of Sumter, and General 
Beauregard was almost deified in the popular mind. He was the 
man of the hour; and when, a few weeks later, a commander was 
needed to organize the young army and lead it to battle, no one 
was mentioned save Beauregard. He commanded at Bull Run, where 
victory crowned the Confederate arms in the first great struggle of the 
war. The South was fairly intoxicated with its success, and Beaure¬ 
gard was more than ever the object of popular adoration. The next 
day after the battle he was promoted to the full grade of general. 

At this point the sun of General Beauregard’s fame had reached 
its zenith, and its decline followed. General Joseph E. Johnston was 
placed in command in Virginia and' Beauregard was ordered to the 
West, where, at Shiloh, he was subordinate to Sidney Johnston. The 
latter, during the battle of the first day, received a musket ball in 
the leg, which severed the main artery. If he could have received 
immediate surgical attention his life might have been saved, but 
those about him could not stanch the flow of blood and he died on 
the field. General Beauregard succeeded to the command. It was 
not his fault that he lost the battle. The army had been much de¬ 
moralized by the fall of Johnston and by its plundering of the cap¬ 
tured camps. Sixteen thousand fresh men under Buell came to the 
aid of Grant on the second day, and the contest became a hopeless 
one for the Confederates. But the unreasoning people looked only to 
the success of the first day under Johnston and the abandonment of 
the field on the second day under Beauregard, and the latter passed 
into the cloud of popular disfavor. He continued to command dur- 


PIERRE GUSTAVE TOUTANT BEAUREGARD 


47 


ing the siege of Corinth, ordered the evacuation and directed the 
retirement of the army to Tupelo, Mississippi. 

General Beauregard was not again intrusted with an important 
independent command. He was in charge of the defenses of Charles¬ 
ton Harbor, during the operations of General Gillmore and Admirals 
Dupont and Dahlgren, in 1863. I11 1864 he commanded at Drury’s 

Bluff, in Virginia, against General Butler, and later was in the 
army of General Lee, engaged in the defense of Petersburg. Near 
the end of that year, he was ordered to Georgia, to resist the march 
of Sherman’s army <( to the sea, ® but with barely five thousand men 
at his disposal, he could do little to stay the onward sweep of a 
host of sixty thousand. He fell back to Savannah, and to his skill 
was chiefly due the adroit withdrawal of the force under General 
Hardee, which had occupied that city. Beauregard united his small 
army with that of General “Joe” Johnston, and joined in the futile 
effort to oppose the northward march of Sherman through the Caro- 
'linas. He was with Johnston at the final surrender. 

After the war, General Beauregard engaged in railroad manage¬ 
ment. In 1866 he was offered the chief command of the Roumanian 
army, and in 1869 he received a similar offer from the Khedive of 
Egypt. Both offers were declined. He died at New Orleans, in 1893. 


4 8 


HENRY WARD BEECHER 


He swayed mil lions from pulpit and platform. 


mm 

W- P'' / 





I n the severe school of New England life, Henry Ward Beecher was 
brought up. His early days were spent in his native town of 
Litchfield, Connecticut, where he was born, in 1813. His mother 
died when he was four years of age. Under the care of a poetic 
stepmother, he was reared in the doctrines of his distinguished father, 
Rev. Lyman Beecher, who preached the depravity of the 
2, the divinity of Christ, the atonement, regeneration 
and the inspiration of the Scriptures. The son never 
forsook these articles of faith, but gave them new life 
and new application, making love, instead of duty, 
the law of life. 

When his father was called to Cincinnati, in 
1832, young Beecher spent seven years in chari¬ 
table work in the West. In a little town near 
Cincinnati, he preached, trimmed the lamps, 
kindled the fires, swept the church and rang the 
bell, all for $200 a year. He sent half a dozen articles 
to the publisher of a religious paper to pay for his subscription, 
but they were respectfully returned; yet he had “true riches, heart- 
life, soul-life, hope, joy and love.® He believed that “victories 
that are easy are cheap; those only are worth having which come 
as the result of hard fighting. ® He believed in work and kept at 
it, saying: <( If you are idle you are on the way to ruin, and there are 
few stopping places on it. It is rather a precipice than a road.® 
Called from the West to the new Plymouth Congregational Church 
at Brooklyn, New York, in 1847, Rev. Henry Ward Beecher entered 
upon his great career as a pulpit orator. He was pastor of this church 
for a continuous period of forty years, and made it famous through¬ 
out the world. It was not long until the church was crowded at 
every service. Mr. Beecher’s originality of thought and fertility of 
illustration were most striking and attracted widespread attention. 
All those years, Plymouth Church was a magnet that drew within its 
walls, not only the people of Brooklyn and New York, but many thou¬ 
sands from far and near. Multitudes of persons, from all parts of the 



HENRY WARD BEECHER 


49 



country, who visited the metropolis for business or pleasure, made it 
a part of their plan during their stay to “hear Beecher. M His elo¬ 
quent utterances were widely published, and were read and quoted 
more than those of any contemporaneous speaker. 

Mr. Beecher was perfectly fearless, in 
his pulpit or elsewhere — for he spoke much 
upon the lecture platform and at public 
meetings on various occasions. Decided 
in his opinions and exceedingly tenacious 
of them, he never lacked the courage to 
speak plainly and boldly. His pungent 
attacks upon the evils and follies of social 
life, and upon governments, from municipal 

to national, which he believed to connive at fraud or oppression, or to be 
lax in the enforcement of law, aroused bitter animosities, and some pub¬ 
lic men became his implacable enemies. But for all this he cared noth¬ 
ing. Neither denunciation, threat nor cajolery could turn him from his 
purpose to expose evil. He early joined the antislavery movement 
and was a brilliant champion of universal human liberty. His re¬ 
lentless opposition to slavery made him equally odious with Garrison 
and Phillips to the supporters of that institution. 

The following gems of thought are instances of Mr. Beecher’s won¬ 
derful power of illustration : — 




(< At the mouth of the Mississippi, how impossible would it be to stay 
its waters, and to separate, each from the others, the drops from the various 
streams that have poured in from either side — the Red, the Arkansas, the 
Ohio, and the Missouri — or to sift grain by grain the particles of sand that 
have been washed from the Alleghany or the Rocky Mountains; yet how 
much more impossible would it be when character is the river, and habits 
are the side streams . n 

“ There is dew on one flower and not on another, because one opens 
its cup and takes it in, while the other closes itself and the drop runs off . 0 

(< It is defeat that turns bone to flint, and gristle to muscle, and makes 
man invincible and forms those heroic natures that are now in ascendancy 
in the world. Do not, then, be afraid of defeat. You are never so near 
to victory as when defeated in a good cause.” 


Doubtless the most memorable oratorical success ever achieved by 
an American citizen abroad, in behalf of the honor of his country, 
was that of Mr. Beecher in England, during the great conflict of 
arms then raging in the United States. He left in the summer of 
1863, for a tour in Europe, and, as it was known that a large part 
of the English people at that time were in sympathy with the Con¬ 
federate cause, Mr. Beecher was asked to discuss the question before 
1—4 




5° 


HENRY WARD BEECHER 


them. At Liverpool, he waged such a battle with the vast, unfriendly 
and tumultuous throng assembled there to stifle him that he was led 
to exclaim: — 

<( I am born without moral fear. I have expressed my views in any 
audience, and it never cost me a struggle. I never could help doing it. 
Standing by my cradle, standing by my hearth, standing by the altar of the 
church, I declare that in ten or twenty years of war, we will sacrifice every¬ 
thing we have for principle. If the love of popular liberty is dead in 
Great Britain, you will not understand us; but if the love of liberty lives 
as it once lived, and has worthy successors of those renowned men that 
were our ancestors as much as yours, then you will understand our firm, 
invincible determination to fight this war through, at all hazard and at 
every cost.” 

His last speech was in London. The admission was by ticket. 
The speech was to begin at seven o’clock, but long before that hour 
the crowd was so dense that Mr. Beecher could not get to the stand 
except on the shoulders of the police. When at last he faced that 
sea of strange faces, his good humor and his great earnestness, com¬ 
bined with his rare talent -for effective retort, succeeded in carrying 
his entire audience. The great effectiveness of the speech consisted 
in its being an American presentation of the American question, and 
never before did an orator make such triumphant use of his oppor¬ 
tunity. 

There are many stories told of Mr. Beecher’s desire to purchase 
books. He used to say: — 

<( A book is good company. It comes to your longing, full of instruc¬ 
tion, but it pursues you, never. It is not offended at your absent-minded¬ 
ness, nor jealous if you turn to other pleasures, of leaf, or dress, or 
mineral, or even of books. It silently serves the soul without recom¬ 
pense, not even the hire of love. And yet, more noble, it seems to pass 
from itself and to enter the memory, and to hover in a silvery transforma¬ 
tion there, until the outward book is but a body, and its soul and heart 
are flown to you, and possess your memory like a spirit. I do not remem¬ 
ber a book in all the departments of learning, nor a scrap of literature, 
nor a work in all the schools of art, from which its author has derived a 
permanent renown, that is not known to have been long and patiently 
elaborated. Genius needs industry as much as industry needs genius. M 

Mr. Beecher died in 1887. His name and fame have been widely 
honored. In 1893 a tablet was erected in Plymouth Church which 
reads:— 

<( In Memoriam, Henry Ward Beecher; First Pastor of Plymouth Church 
1847-1887. ( I have not concealed Thy Loving Kindness and Thy Truth 
from the great Congregation.> >J 


5i 


ALEXANDER GRAHAM BELL 


The whole world talks through his telephone. 


I t is probably true that not one of the great inventions that human 
genius has given to the world was conceived and brought to 
perfection by a single person.. Each of them was made applica¬ 
ble to the uses of man by a system of evolution. The idea that 
came to the first mind in the series was but the germ from which 
grew the perfect scheme, by gradual development, often the 
work of many years. Such was the origin of the steam jf 
engine, and its application to the railway and the steam¬ 
boat, the machinery for spinning and weaving, the 
sewing machine, the grass and grain harvester, and 
the telegraph. So it was with the telephone, the 
name most prominently identified with which is 
that of Alexander Graham Bell. 

When, about the year 1878, the first practical 
telephone, by which the articulate sounds of the 
human voice were distinctly transmitted long dis¬ 
tances, with the aid of the electric current, was 
produced, the world was incredulous. Few persons 
were able to believe, except on the testimony of their 
own ears, that the words and tones of the voice could be carried 
hundreds of miles, and delivered to the receiver in such manner 
as to be easily distinguishable. Even then, most people said that 
the telephone was but an ingenious plaything, that would amuse for 
a time and perhaps interest the curious. Few believed that it would 
prove to be of practical benefit. But the telephone made its way 
rapidly. When a few working lines had been established, the. popu¬ 
lar mind was quick to grasp its convenience and utility. It spread 
like a contagion. Telephone systems were established in cities and 
towns, and long-distance lines were built, by which instantaneous 
verbal communication between points far remote from each other 
was made possible. The telephone is no respecter of language, and 
it was but a few years till the <( Hello! ® was heard around the 
globe. The telegraph revolutionized the means of communication, 
and the telephone was another great leap forward. It has to some 
extent supplanted the telegraph for long distances, but for local use, 
affording quick communication in a city or other community, for 






ALEXANDER GRAHAM BELL 


5 2 

business or social purposes, it has come to be regarded as a thing 
indispensable. One wonders how he ever got along without it. 

It will be interesting to note the beginning and the development 
of this wonderful accessory of our modern civilization. In 1854, 
Bourseul, a young mathematician and physicist, communicated to a 
Parisian newspaper a project for transmitting speech by electricity. 
He proposed that the vibrations which produced the sounds of the 
human voice should be delivered upon a delicately flexible disk, 
which should make and break connection with a battery by its own 
vibrations and so reproduce the same vibrations, and consequently 
the same sounds, upon a like disk at the other end of the connec¬ 
tion. It will be seen that, in a broad way, this published project 
was a close anticipation of the telephone. 

In 1861, Reis, a German school-teacher, exhibited at Frankfort 
an apparatus called a telephone, in which the vibrations were trans¬ 
mitted and reproduced in the manner indicated by Bourseul. The 
device was successful in reproducing musical sounds and vocal in¬ 
flections, but not practically so in reproducing the articulations of 
speech. Successive improvements made it an interesting piece of 
philosophical apparatus, and a possible telegraphing instrument for 
such as chose to use vocal signals, but it never became a speaking 
telephone. 

In 1869, Dr. P. H. Van der Weyde, of New York, produced a 
singing telephone, on the principle of the Reis instrument, but it 
would not reproduce articulate speech. In the same year, Daniel 
Drawbaugh, of Milltown, Pennsylvania, an ingenious but unprosper- 
ous mechanic, with some practical electrical knowledge, repeatedly 
exhibited a rudely constructed but perfectly operative speaking tele¬ 
phone, and even made some small and occasional use of it in his 
own little business affairs. But he seems not to have appreciated its 
commercial utility or value, and he made little effort to improve or 
introduce it, though he often talked in a large strain of its possibili¬ 
ties. Crude as this apparatus was, it varied the power of the cur¬ 
rent to conform to the sound vibrations, and for that reason was 
able to reproduce speech. 

On January 20, 1876, Alexander Graham Bell, a college professor, 
of Salem, Massachusetts, executed the specification and claim for an 
improvement in telegraphy. A few days afterward, he delivered to the 
Hon. George Brown, of Canada, a similar document, to be used in 
preparing an application at London for a British patent. On Febru¬ 
ary 14, 1876, Bell’s application for the American patent was filed in 
the patent office at Washington. Later in the same day, a caveat 
was filed there by Professor Elisha Gray, of Chicago, for a new art 


ALEXANDER GRAHAM BELL 


53 


of transmitting vocal sounds telegraphically. A patent was granted 
to Bell, but it was attacked by Gray and others, and a long litiga¬ 
tion followed. The matter was in the courts for several years and 
the contest was conducted on both sides with extraordinary energy. 
The most eminent legal counsel in the country were engaged, and 
when they met in argument it was a battle of giants. Eleven 
years after the patent had been granted to Bell, the question came 
before the United States Supreme Court for final decision. The court 
sustained the Bell patent, three of the justices dissenting. Chief- 
justice Morrison R. Waite, a most upright, conscientious, and labo¬ 
rious man, unwilling to burden any of his already overladen associates 
with the drawing up of the majority opinion, in one of the most 
voluminous and intricate cases that had ever come before the court, 
took that duty upon himself, though he really had the least time of 
any to devote to it. When the day came, he was too weak to read 
the opinion, which another member of the court read for him, and 
after listening to the dissenting opinion delivered by Justice Bradley, 
he went home and took to his bed, from which he never rose again. 

As the perfecter and introducer of the telephone, Bell rose to 
great fortune and a high fame, not only at home but abroad. Europe 
has accepted him unreservedly as belonging to the category of great 
inventors, though she no more regards him exclusively 'as the devel¬ 
oper of the telephone than she does Morse of the telegraph, or Ful¬ 
ton of the steamboat. The great day of the telephone lies ahead, and 
the continual advances in electrical science indicate that the talking 
machine is yet but in its rudimentary stages. When telegraphy be¬ 
comes wireless, telephony must follow the fashion, and so with other 
principles dealing with the motive power of the telephone. 

It has been the contention of Gray that he was the author of the 
(< variable resistance ® method, which gave to the telephone its prac¬ 
tical value. But it is not in the least a question whether Bell could 
have devised the method for himself. That he could and would have 
devised it, had Gray never been born, is as certain as anything human. 
He was an electrical expert and a capable electrical inventor; he was 
after a speaking telegraph and knew the conditions of the problem, 
and there is irrefragable proof that from June, 1875, which is admit¬ 
tedly earlier than Gray’s conception of the variable resistance to pro¬ 
duce the variable current, Bell was headed straight toward the right 
solution. As between Gray and himself, the question in its farthest 
limit is only whether or not Gray was a little ahead of him. His¬ 
torically considered, the question is not important, since the unlet¬ 
tered mechanic, Drawbaugh, was years ahead of both. The case is 
analagous to that of the famous barbed-wire monopoly, established on 


54 


ALEXANDER GRAHAM BELL 


two patents afterward found to be invalid by reason of a prior French 
invention, and that in turn long antedated by the publicly exhibited 
but unfollowed invention of a thriftless, vagrant and intemperate me¬ 
chanical genius in Pennsylvania. So far as Bell is concerned, it is 
sufficient to know that his claim was sustained by the highest judi¬ 
cial tribunal in the land, after a patient, full and exhaustive hearing. 

Professor Bell is a Scotchman, born at Edinburgh in 1847, 
and a graduate of its high school and its famous university. 
At the age of twenty, he went to London and continued his 
post-graduate studies there, but his health failed and in 1870 
he went to Canada with his father. In 1872 he removed 
^ to the United States and engaged in teaching his father’s 
distinguished system of deaf-mute instruction, popularly 
called visible speech, and intended to impart the vocal 
sounds to deaf mutes and so enable them to converse with 
their fellow-men. He became a professor at Boston Uni¬ 
versity, and there continued the studies and experiments 
that had long interested him as to the transmission of 

sound by electricity; and in the draft specification for a 
British patent that he prepared in January, 1876, and which admit¬ 
tedly contains nothing but his own original ideas, the progress that 
he had made clearly appears. That specification is for a vibratory, 
or undulatory, current in telegraphy, in place of the intermittent 
current; the vibrations of the current are to correspond with the 

vibrations of the inducing body — that is, to the pitch of the sound 

produced; the current is also to respond to the air movements 

caused by the sound vibrations, and the telephone is strongly sug¬ 
gested when he says: “When electrical undulations of different rates 
are simultaneously induced in the same circuit, an effect is produced 
exactly analagous to that occasioned in the air by the vibration 
of the inducing bodies. ® After this, it is quite natural to find him 
enumerating “ the telegraphic transmission of noises or sounds of any 
kind >} as among the uses of the vibratory magnet apparatus that he 
then proposed to adopt for his vibratory current, and the armature 
of which, he said, could be set in motion by means of the human 
voice. This was not the “variable resistance w method which pro¬ 
duced the practicable telephone and made Bell’s great fortune, but it 
shows that he was in the midst of the field and was feeling his way 
forward with the assured skill of a master. It tends also to show 
that if Drawbaugh’s abandoned invention had gone to the general 
use, Bell would have found a large measure of reputation and reward 
as an improver of the telephone, from the practicable but still rudi¬ 
mentary stage at which Drawbaugh left it. 



55 


JAMES GILLESPIE BLAINE 


The <( Plumed Knight ® whose magnetism drew millions to him. 

M r. Blaine left few of the marks of a statesman in the history of 
his country, and as a politician he was bold rather than adroit; 
but he had more people personally devoted to him than any 
other public man in our history except Henry Clay, whom he most 
nearly resembled. Blaine was a bright boy, of good 
Scotch-Irish stock, but in place of the canniness of 
that race he had a fervid temperament, quite for¬ 
eign to the type, which was the cause at once of 
his successes and his defeats. This probably came 
from his mother, whose characteristics were repro¬ 
duced in him, allowing for difference of sex and for 
his larger sphere. She greatly influenced his early 
years, and was the innocent occasion of the accusa¬ 
tion made against him long after her death, that he 
had abandoned the Catholic faith for the Protestant religion, 
as an aid to his political fortunes. The charge was groundless 
The devout mother, naturally enough, had sought to bring the child 
under the influence of what she deemed the one true religion, and 
when manhood came, and the filial tie was broken by death, the son 
simply reverted to his own religious preference. 

The education of a clever youth is apt to be superficial, by reason 
of his intuition overrunning the orderly progress of instruction, and 
this was the case with Blaine. He was a college graduate a few 
months after reaching his seventeenth year, and was then, what he 
always remained, brilliant, if not profound. He spent seven, years 
in teaching at district schools, an academic school in Kentucky and 
lastly in a school for the blind, and so far as personally influencing 
and interesting his pupils went he was a distinct success. Had his 
own education been more deliberate and solid, his aptitude as an 
instructor, especially on the personal side, would probably have led 
him on in time to the gratifying and satisfying rank of a professor 
at one of the important universities. But he was of too impulsive a 
nature to be patient in anything, and as he lacked the foundation for 
an eminent career as an educator, his ambition was forced in other 
directions. While still teaching, he thought of the law as a vocation 






5 6 


JAMES GILLESPIE BLAINE 


and as an opening to politics; but the law and he did not go well in 
harness together, and he soon gave up the study of it. This was a 
misfortune in after life, for in a country like this, where the powers 
of government are so strictly separated and so definitely prescribed in 
written constitutions, and so completely dominated by judicial con¬ 
struction, a legal training is well-nigh indispensable to the successful 
statesman. Nobody needed the discipline of legal study and habi¬ 
tude more than Blaine, as a corrective of his defects in education. 

Blaine had an early literary tendency and a good facility of ex¬ 
pression. These brought him at length to his open door. He knew 
almost everything of current interest on the surface, and he could 
talk about a thing effectively beyond his real knowledge of it. Jour¬ 
nalism had a freer hand than the law, and to journalism he took. In 
1854 he became editor of the <( Kennebec Journal,” a well-established 
and influential country weekly in Maine, and his success in conduct¬ 
ing this little newspaper during an exciting and transitional period of 
national politics obtained him the editorship of the (< Portland Adver¬ 
tiser, ” which became the leading Republican organ of the state, on 
the formation of that part) 7 . He was a good, forceful and ready 
writer, and as brilliancy and point are often more important to a 
political organ than accuracy or depth of statement, he was com¬ 
pletely in his element. But from the beginning, journalism had been 
only the intended stepping-stone to politics, and in 1858 his real ambi¬ 
tion received its first gratification by his election as chairman of the 
Republican state committee, which position he held for twenty years. 
He was also elected to the legislature, in which he served four 
years and became Speaker of the house. He was now one of the 
party leaders in the state, with some influence in the distribution of 
the Federal patronage that fell to the party on Lincoln’s accession, but 
he was as yet overshadowed by Hamlin, Fessenden and Morrill. He 
had, however, begun to show that audacity which so often served him 
in place of renown or established authority, and already there were 
young politicians disposed to attach their affections and fortunes to 
him, and to have no other political creed or principle than (< Blaine, 
of Maine.” 

In 1863 Mr. Blaine entered the national House of Representatives. 
He was alert, energetic and persistent in getting government con¬ 
tracts, army appointments and promotions and civil patronage of 
the abundant kinds then available, for his constituents, and his per¬ 
sonal strength and popularity at home grew immensely. His eye was 
now, as his heart had already been, on the presidency, and he fer¬ 
vidly pursued his object of becoming the first man in Maine, in order 
that he might become the first man in the L T nited States. On the 


JAMES GILLESPIE BLAINE 


57 


floor of the House he was aggressive toward the yet unsuppressed 
rebellion, and also toward some men, whose prominence or ambition 
might bar his way, and toward others, a bout with whom might 
increase his fame. He had chosen his part as a tribune of the peo¬ 
ple, and was at all times on the lookout for chances to play the char¬ 
acter. 

In the Congress of 1865 reappeared Roscoe Conkling, who had 
been shut out from the Congress to which Blaine first had come, by 
the Democratic triumph of 1862 in New York. Conkling was as am¬ 
bitious in politics as Blaine, was an abler and more experienced 
man and had a larger and more politically useful state behind him. 
The two men were nearly of the same age, but were of directly oppo¬ 
site temperaments and had lived in wholly different atmospheres. 
Conkling was arrogant and patronizing; Blaine affable and cajoling. 
The two became political rivals and personal antagonists, almost at 
sight. Conkling did not conceal his contempt for Blaine as a charla¬ 
tan, nor Blaine his ridicule for Conkling as an upstart. Each was a 
forceful man in his way, and insensibly a great majority of the mem¬ 
bers of the House became ranged, in sympathy, on one side or the 
other. Conkling was by nature cool, and Blaine as naturally im¬ 
petuous ; the former too proud to be likely to provoke a quarrel, 
the latter too restless to let pass an opportunity for a quarrel. 

In the session of 1866, Conkling moved to strike out of the bill 
to reorganize the army, a provision for perpetuating the office of 
provost-marshal general. The office was an unnecessary one in time 
of peace, but the military committee had thought proper to retain 
it, in order to give the regular army officer who had ably conducted 
it, the benefit of his temporarily increased rank while winding up its 
affairs during the next few years. Against that officer, Conkling had 
a personal resentment, growing out of Conkling’s appearance as an 
advocate for some persons held to service under the draft, during 
the time that he was out of Congress. This was known to sundry 
members of the House who were friendly to the officer, but was 
not publicly alluded to by them in the debate. Blaine, however, 
mentioned and enlarged upon it, and, in his rash way, made it the 
subject of an attack upon Conkling’s personal character and motives 
such as no human being could ever forget or forgive. Evidently, 
Blaine had decided to have his detested rival as an open enemy 
rather than a secret foe, for he proceeded from Conkling’s conduct 
and motive to his personal appearance and manner, touching off his 
vanity and arrogance, and ending with an illustrative caricature of 
what he termed Conkling’s (< turkey-gobbler strut. w The joys of the 
debate rested with Blaine, but the House voted with Conkling. As 


58 


JAMES GILLESPIE BLAINE 


the latter soon afterward passed to the Senate, each was relieved of 
the other’s hated presence. 

Blaine sided with his party, and usually with the extreme con¬ 
tingent of it, in the heated struggle between Congress and President 
Johnson over reconstruction, the Freedmen’s Bureau and civil rights 
for negroes, and, generally, the extension of Federal as against state 
jurisdiction. He was for the widest construction of the Constitu¬ 
tion, the most active exercise of Federal powers, and liberal appro¬ 
priations of national revenue to internal improvements and for mail 
subsidies to American steamship lines. This attitude, conspicuously 
displayed, brought him many and powerful friends, for the great war 
expenditures from 1861 to 1865 had created a large and interested 
class favorable to government activity and profuseness, and enough 
of the war taxes had been retained to produce an abundant revenue. 

At the March session of 1869, coincident with the accession of 
Grant to the presidency, Blaine was elected Speaker of the House 
in succession to Colfax, who had become Vice-president. This office 
he held for six years and administered it very successfully, being 
firm yet patient, fair and courteous to the minority, and showing 
himself an adept in parliamentary law and usage. His enemy, 
Conkling, had become political conscience-keeper to President Grant, 
but that troubled Blaine very little, as the latter’s power and position 
as Speaker, and his hold upon the House of Representatives, made 
it impossible for the administration to snub or ignore him. He was 
also much stronger with the people than Conkling. 

The Congressional and state elections in the autumn of 1874 re¬ 
sulted in an opposition majority in the House, and Blaine left the 
Speaker’s chair to lead a Republican minority on the floor. Some¬ 
body had put the notion in President Grant’s head that the public- 
school system was in danger from Roman Catholic influence. Blaine 
took the matter up, as one likely to be popular, and carried through 
the House a constitutional amendment, prohibiting the states from 
appropriating public money to sectarian purposes. 

For the succession to Grant in 1877, the leading Republican can¬ 
didates were Conkling, the first choice of the administration, Morton, 
of Indiana, its second choice, and Blaine, who was stronger with the 
rank and file of the party than the two others combined. There had 
been a serious intention on the part of the office-holding element 
of the party to nominate Grant for a third term, and Grant played 
with the idea long enough to endanger the election of any Republi¬ 
can successor to himself, before giving it up in the face of a most 
emphatic popular disapproval. The nomination at the Republican 
convention, which was to be held at Cincinnati, June 14, 1876, then 


JAMES GILLESPIE BLAINE 


59 


seemed assured to Blaine. As leader of the minority he had, after 
his unrestrained fashion, used much bitter language toward the Demo¬ 
crats, calling the Southern contingent of that party in the House (< the 
Confederate Brigadiers.® But they did not resent this, considering 
that it was done for political effect, and his personal and social re¬ 
lations with them were all the time most cordial. 

Blaine was but little past his forty-sixth year, but the pace at which 
he had followed politics, the Democratic landslide of 1874, Grant’s 
dalliance with the third term project, Conkling’s adverse control of 
the vast power of the administration, and the excitement incident to 
the near approach of the Republican national convention, had told 
on his originally strong constitution. On Sunday, June ix, he was 
taken ill in the street at Washington, while on his way to church. 
His friends at the convention, which was about to meet, were advised 
that his prostration was only a passing effect of the heat, but in fact 
it was a case of nervous prostration, and he was never quite his old 
self again. 

The nominating speech for Blaine fell to Robert G. Ingersoll, the 
aggressive agnostic, and a devoted friend, and though Blaine would 
have wished it otherwise, he was too chivalrous to interfere. Inger¬ 
soll was a rhetorician, and gave the delegates and the audience their 
full measure of intellectual entertainment. His comparison of Blaine 
with the Plumed Knight of Navarre caught the popular ear and gave 
to the <( Man from Maine ® a name that clung to him throughout the 
remainder of his life. A vote of three hundred and seventy-nine 
was necessary to a nomination, and Blaine’s highest vote was twenty- 
eight short of that number. Nobody else was seemingly in the run¬ 
ning, but the field was stronger than Blaine, and when the fifth 
ballot showed that Rutherford B. Hayes, of Ohio, was the destined 
<( dark horse,® Blaine sent him a congratulatory telegram which made 
his nomination sure. 

In 1877 Blaine went to the Senate, which was still a very sedate 
body, dominated by Edmunds, of Vermont, and Thurman, of Ohio, 
leaders of the two opposing parties, and the most inseparable of per¬ 
sonal friends. His role there was that of the (< bull in the china 
shop.” He flouted Edmunds and Thurman, the great jurists of the 
Senate, and carried the Senate against them, partly by his audacity 
and personal charm, and partly by the joy of the other members at 
having found one who was not afraid to measure swords with the 
veteran leaders. 

While President Hayes was carrying on an honest, uneventful 
administration, General Grant was touring the world under a prear¬ 
ranged etiquette that put him on a footing with royalty wherever he 


6o 


JAMES GILLESPIE BLAINE 


appeared. He saw and learned so much that he longed for another 
term at the White House, to show the Americans what blessings an 
instructed President could confer on them. Conkling organized and 
Don Cameron managed a phalanx of three hundred and six dele¬ 
gates to the Republican convention in 1880, sacredly pledged to vote 
for Grant, from the first ballot to the last. As three hundred and 
seventy-eight votes would be necessary to a choice, this meant Grant 
or a dark horse, and was fatal to Blaine, the leading legitimate can¬ 
didate, who, by reason of the votes which were sealed to Grant, 
was nearly a hundred votes short on his best estimate. With Grant 
out of the way, Blaine could have won on the first ballot with votes 
to spare; but Conkling was there with his (< turkey-gobbler strut, w 
and was biting his thumb at Blaine and enjoying a sure revenge. 
All that Blaine could do was to join hands with John Sherman, his 
chief but not dangerous competitor, and hurriedly throw their united 
strength to Garfield, the manager for Sherman at the convention. 

Conkling had been unable to nominate Grant, but he would be 
able to defeat Garfield, and let the election go to the Democrats, by 
ostentatiously showing an indifference toward the Republican candi¬ 
date. This course was adopted, and the consequences in time be¬ 
came so alarming to the candidate and his friends that Garfield 
went to New York to beg Conkling to relent. But Conkling refused 
to meet Garfield personally, and authorized some of his subordinates 
to treat with him; and when the candidate had been sufficiently 
snubbed, and had given satisfactory assurance about the patronage 
in New York, he was sent back to Ohio. Conkling took the stump 
for the party, but ignored the candidate, and as the candidacy of 
Grant had been so thoroughly worked up before the meeting of the 
convention, it became necessary for Grant, himself, to tour the coun¬ 
try as a campaign speaker, to overcome the sullenness of his disap¬ 
pointed adherents. 

Blaine accepted the office of Secretary of State under Garfield, 
which meant that his own further candidacy would probably have to 
be postponed till 1888, when he would be more than fifty-eight‘years 
old. Yet it was a gain to him, as it would give him the patronage 
of the administration for 1884, if Garfield should then fail of a re¬ 
nomination. Meanwhile, it would enable him to do something for 
his friends, left in a bad situation by his loss of the late nomination. 
He had a strong faction in New York State, and induced Garfield 
to recognize his following instead of Conkling’s in the Federal ap¬ 
pointments. Conkling went to the President and protested against 
the breach of faith and the humiliation of himself as the party 
leader of his state. He got no satisfaction from the man he had so 


JAMES GILLESPIE BLAINE 


6l 

recently humiliated, and thereupon resigned his seat in the Senate, 
intending to have the New York legislature immediately reelect 
him, and so compel Garfield to surrender. Blaine’s friends, with the 
patronage in hand, proved too strong for Conkling, and though he 
stooped as never before, they emphasized his helplessness by elect¬ 
ing another as his successor, and Conkling went smarting into pri¬ 
vate life. The projection of the Blaine-Conkling feud into Garfield’s 
administration cost the President his life, at the hands of a half¬ 
crazy aspirant for a consulship, who attributed his failure to get 
what he wanted, to Garfield’s disruption of the party. Arthur, who 
succeeded Garfield, naturally dispensed with Blaine’s service in the 
Cabinet, and the latter, having nothing to do but wait, took to writ¬ 
ing his political reminiscences and experiences in a book entitled 
<( Twenty Years of Congress, w at the same time keeping in touch 
with his party, with a view to securing its next nomination. 

Arthur had made so good a President that there was a strong 
feeling throughout the ranks of the party that he ought to be his 
own successor. Though not compactly organized, the feeling would 
have probably sufficed to carry his nomination, except for the organ¬ 
ized strength of Blaine, since neither Senator Sherman nor General 
Logan was within reaching distance of Arthur. Blaine led Arthur 
by only fifty-six and one-half votes on the first ballot, all other can¬ 
didates being far distanced by the two real contestants. Up to the 
third ballot Arthur had lost only four votes; but Blaine had gained 
forty, and on the next ballot he was nominated. There was an out¬ 
burst of enthusiasm at the convention, followed by a severe chill 
as soon as it had dispersed. The practical politicians who had car¬ 
ried through Blaine’s nomination, had confessed to the probability of 
some little defection among the rebellious members of the party, 
but nothing to be compared to the force of the candidate’s (< mag¬ 
netism, ® in bringing the rest of the vote out in full, to say nothing 
of the tens of thousands of Democratic votes that would be cast for 
him because he was <( Blaine. w But the revolt at once assumed such 
proportions as to convince Blaine that the fight of his life lay before 
him, and as the eyes of the disaffected Republicans were all turned 
toward Governor Cleveland, of New York, the Democrats made him 
their nominee. 

That Blaine had, in the end, a fair chance of election, was due 
to his own efforts. He took the field in person and went from East 
to West, drawing immense crowds and arousing wild enthusiasm. 
Before giving up from sheer exhaustion, he had brought the canvass 
to a point where everything seemed to depend upon the size of the 
Irish vote he was going to take away from Cleveland in New York. 


62 


JAMES GILLESPIE BLAINE 



To show that Blaine had also the solid classes on his side, a banquet 
to him was given in New York City, but as the press reports in¬ 
sisted on treating it as the personal affair of Jay Gould, its result 
was rather harmful than otherwise. Finally, to show 
that Blaine had the moral sentiment of the 
;*' country with him, a deputation of clergymen, 
representing all denominations, was drawn to¬ 
gether, to call upon him and make him an 
address. The speaking of the address — 
which had been carefully framed to 
avoid offense to any class or denomi¬ 
nation, and the tenor of which had been 
communicated to Blaine, that he might 
be prepared suitably to answer it — 
was intrusted to an old retired Pres¬ 
byterian minister. He delivered the 
address nicely, and was nicely answered, 
and Blaine was retiring gracefully and 
urbanely from his audience, when the old 
minister, fired by the presence of the re¬ 
porters and chafed by the tameness of the words 
that had been put into his mouth, suddenly roared out to the vanish¬ 
ing Blaine the one spontaneous speech of the occasion, which was 
that his opponent’s candidacy stood for (< Rum, Romanism and Re¬ 
bellion. ® Blaine turned white and was dumb, and only less dis¬ 
tressed than himself was the lone Catholic priest that had been 
enticed into the delegation, together with a Hebrew rabbi, to make 
it unanimous. The only happy people were the reporters, who had 
come for a ceremony and had found a sensation. 

On learning that he had lost the presidency by a paltry plurality 
of one thousand one hundred and forty-nine votes in New York, 
the pent-up agony in Blaine’s soul flamed out in a few words of con¬ 
centrated rage and bitterness, in a public speech at his home in 
Maine. That his sun was set, everybody believed but himself. He 
was not stronger than Clay, and Clay had been unable to rally under 
circumstances like his own. Though his personal part in the cam¬ 
paign had been marvelous, experienced politicians felt that his high 
meridian had been reached four years before, when Conkling had 
floored him with Grant, and he had floored Grant with Garfield. He 
went back to the leisurely composition of his book; and he went also 
to Europe, where he was when the convention of 1888 met, before 
which he declined to be a candidate. He got back in time to take 
the stump for Harrison, who restored him to his old position as Sec- 



JAMES GILLESPIE BLAINE 63 

retary of State. Here he became attached to the administrative and 
social circumstances of his place, and seemed happy. 

As Blaine’s health was visibly failing, it mattered less to him than 
it otherwise would, that Harrison kept his administration well in hand, 
and was master of his official household. Blaine’s work was heavy, 
delicate and perplexing, and if his old-time rashness had been in 
play and could have played at will, he might easily have gotten be¬ 
yond his depth. His official position caused him to look beyond the 
boundaries of the United States in viewing the industrial interests of 
the country, and he broke out against some of the provisions of the 
McKinley tariff bill, in a Senate committee room, smashing his white 
top hat by bringing it down violently on the table in his vehemence. 
The incident made a great flutter, and the tariff tinkers were hot 
against Blaine; but the country applauded him, and from the ranks 
of the Republicans went up the cry that Blaine was the only states¬ 
man left in the (< grand old party. * The smitten tariff bill was taken 
in for repairs, and it stayed in till it could come out with reciprocity 
provisions acceptable to Blaine, and which he put to immediate use. 
He was blacklisted by the other party leaders, but was strongest of 
all of them with the people, and when, in the congressional elections, 
a month after the act went into operation, the people nearly wiped 
the Republican representation in Congress out of existence, in resent¬ 
ment at the bill which Blaine had denounced, his star again was 
ascendant. 

Intellectually and morally, this was Blaine’s highest period in pub¬ 
lic life. All that was objectionable in the man of old had passed 
away, and the newer was in every way a larger and finer man. But 
his strength and health were in decline; domestic affliction had laid 
a heavy hand upon him; he was hesitating and procrastinating; the 
foreign envoys resorted to his house to transact their business, and 
accommodated their affairs to his increasing habits of lassitude and 
delay, and intimates reported him often despondent and sometimes 
fatalistic. That a presidential campaign in 1892 would have killed 
him seems now certain, but many anxious and longing eyes were 
turned his way till he spoke the final word that bound the party to a 
renomination of Harrison. On the very eve of the nominating con¬ 
vention he suddenly resigned, and became a willing though not a 
formal candidate. There were friendly votes enough to nominate 
him, but too many of them, by his own act, had been irrevocably 
pledged to Harrison. The vote he got was handsome, under the cir¬ 
cumstances, but ineffectual. The hand of death was really upon him 
and this was the last flash of an impulsive and erratic life. He died 
at Washington on January 27, 1893. 


64 


PHI LLIPS BROOKS 


He had exalted talent as a pulpit teacher. 


P hillips Brooks belonged to the higher grade of what Oliver Wen¬ 
dell Holmes called <( The Brahmin Caste” of New England. 
The founder of his mother’s family was the Reverend George 
Phillips, who came from England to Salem, Massachusetts, in 1630. 
The well-known Phillips academies, of Andover and Exeter, were 
founded by different individuals of the same family, and they are a 
monumental testimony to the commercial prosperity and the 
^^intellectual character of the family. The Brooks family 
was founded by Thomas Brooke, who came to this coun¬ 
try about the year 1636, and many generations of his 
descendants lived at Medford, near Boston. It need 
hardly be said that the family on both sides be¬ 
came related to, or connected with, a large num¬ 
ber of the prominent families in New England. 

William Gray Brooks and Mary Ann Phil¬ 
lips were married in the old homestead of the 
bride’s father in North Andover. They made 
their residence in Boston, where Phillips was 
born, December 13, 1835. The family church was 
the First Congregational. In the Unitarian movement, the pastor 
and the majority of the church sympathized with that side. As Mrs. 
Brooks was a Puritan of the evangelical type, this left her without a 
church. She did not seek another Congregational Church, but selected 
the St. Paul’s Protestant Episcopal. Here Mr. Brooks was confirmed 
in 1847, when Phillips was twelve years of age — quite old enough 
to be impressed by the event. Thus the family became Episcopal. 

No particular trait or adventure marked the boyhood of the future 
pulpit orator. He was a creditable scholar, but not a brilliant one; 
a good writer, but in no way phenomenal. While a pupil in the Boston 
Latin School, he edited a school paper, and made the usual schoolboy 
speeches. But thirty years later, in a speech at the dedication of 
the new building, he referred to what the Duke of Wellington once 
said of Eton: (< Here is where I learned the lessons that made it 
possible for me to conquer at Waterloo;” adding, (< and the 



same 


thing made it possible for the Latin and 


High 


School boys to win 



PHILLIPS BROOKS 65 

the victory which came at Gettysburg and under the very walls of 
Richmond.” 

He was a member of the class of ’55 in Harvard College. His 
standing, at graduation, was number thirteen, in a class of seventy- 
six. He was a good reader in his college days, preferring for the 
most part the older standard English authors. It was here that he 
acquired that mastery of the English tongue which is so conspicuous 
in many persons of the higher grade of Harvard men, and in which 
he excelled. 

Though profoundly religious in the undercurrent of his character, 
he had never passed through the emotional experience of conversion. 
In fact, he had never been confirmed. It was not until he had de¬ 
cided to study for the ministry, and sought his pastor’s advice, that 
his attention was called to the fact that studying for the ministry 
was usually preceded by confirmation, and that confirmation was 
usually preceded by conversion. 

The year following graduation from Harvard was spent as usher, 
or teacher, in the Latin school. The personal incompatibility between 
him and the principal was so great that he was practically discharged 
before the end of the year. This was the cause of intense melan¬ 
choly, but in a few months he rallied and put all his enthusiastic 
energy into the study of theology. Brooks entered the Episcopal 
seminary at Alexandria, Virginia, in November, 1856. A year or two 
later he was appointed to have charge of the preparatory department. 
Many of the young candidates came with defective preliminary prepara¬ 
tion, and it was the duty of the principal to guide them to the cor¬ 
rection of this defect. 

The first sermon of the theological student was preached in No¬ 
vember, 1858, to a congregation of about sixty persons, in a near-by 
chapel. The text was characteristic of the preacher: (< The sim¬ 
plicity that is in Christ.” It was prophetic of the marvelous pulpit 
career of the great preacher. The last year of his studies in the 
seminary, young Brooks had charge of a small chapel in the neigh¬ 
boring village of Sharon. One day, while preaching to his usual 
congregation of about forty persons, he observed two strange gen¬ 
tlemen in the pews. They proved to be a committee from the Church 
of the Advent, in Philadelphia. After the services they offered him 
a call which was duly accepted. He was graduated June 30, 1859, 
and the next day was ordained a deacon. On Whitsunday, i860, he 
was ordained a priest in Philadelphia. 

Hardly had Brooks taken up his first pastorate when calls from 
other churches, near and far, came thick and fast. These came from 
Newport. Providence, San Francisco, Brookline, and elsewhere. There 


J-D 


66 


PHILLIPS BROOKS 



was also a call from Holy Trinity, Philadelphia. This was at first 
declined, but, after renewal, it was accepted. The next important 
call was in 1867, when he was invited to be Dean of the new Epis¬ 
copal Theological School in Cambridge. This was also de¬ 
clined. During his life in Philadelphia, he had occasionally 
preached in Boston. In 1868 he was called to Trinity 
Church, Boston. This call he declined, but it was 
renewed the following year, and he accepted it. 
Thus he became rector of the wealthiest and most 
intellectual Episcopal congregation in 
Boston. In that pastorate he spent nearly 
all the rest of his life. His people built 
for him a church costing a million dol¬ 
lars. Not only was it the most beautiful 
edifice in Boston, but it became the most 
influential center of spiritual instruction 
and power. 

Within a short time after Brooks took 
charge of Trinity Church, the auditorium became crowded to the 
doors. The same condition obtained in the capacious new edifice which 
his congregation erected on Copley Square. This enthusiastic interest 
never flagged. Nor was it limited to his own people, or to the social 
and intellectual class which they represented. Wherever he preached, 
people came in crowds to hear him. It was the same in the North 
End that it was in the Back Bay district. When he preached in Faneuil 
Hall, the room was packed, and the effect of the sermon could not have 
been greater. When Mr. Moody, the great evangelist, was suddenly 
taken ill, Mr. Brooks was substituted for him and filled his place as 
naturally as if he had been all his life engaged in evangelistic work. 
When he went to New York City and delivered a course of noonday 
lectures in Old Trinity, at the head of Wall Street, the busiest of 
New York men turned aside at the busiest part of the day to hear 
this man give his message of the Gospel. When he went to a college, 
the young men would leave all work and all Recreation to sit at his feet. 

A characteristic incident occurred when a gentleman went to a 
church that usually was nearly deserted, and was surprised to find 
a surging throng of people, crowding, struggling, elbowing one another 
in the endeavor to get in. Finding the sexton, a colored man, he 
asked what was the meaning of the unusual condition of affairs. The 
reply was brief and comprehensive: <( Phillips Brooks, Sah! ® 

At a time when the ministers and newspapers, religious and secu¬ 
lar, were bewailing the falling off of church attendance, Dr. Brooks 
promptly denied the alleged facts. (< I have preached in many parts 















PHILLIPS BROOKS 


6 ? 


of the country and I know that there is no foundation for this 
complaint. I had personal observation and I know that the churches 
are always full.® In his humility, he did not take account of the 
personal factor in the equation. In physical stature he was enor¬ 
mous. Six feet four was his height, and he was more than propor¬ 
tionally large. Through his early manhood, and, indeed, well into 
middle life, his face was not only as round as an apple, but he was 
as rosy cheeked as a boy. His striking figure would attract atten¬ 
tion anywhere. His speech was so rapid as to be the despair of 

reporters. It was a rare thing for one to catch this man’s extempo¬ 
raneous addresses. Words, clauses, sentences poured forth in a perfect 
torrent. Many hearers were unable to take in this velocity of utter¬ 
ance. Listening to it sometimes produced an effect like that of 
watching near-by objects from the window of a limited express train. 
There is a momentary dazzling and confusion, but at the same time 
one is conscious of being borne on toward some great destination. 

Attempts to analyze his pulpit power have signally failed. Not 
that they go aside from the truth, but they do not go far enough — 
they are inadequate. One said of him that <( He just took Jesus 

Christ with him into the pulpit and had a good time.® It is true 

that his preaching produced a sense of the presence of our Lord, 
but having <( a good time® fails to suggest the majestic, awe-inspiring 
effect of his preaching. Looking over his published sermons, one is 
first struck with his clearness of speech and manifest enthusiasm. 
His sentences are not short, his words are not conspicuously of Saxon 
origin, he rarely utters an epigram, rarely uses an illustration, very 
rarely tells a story. Yet there is never any doubt as to what he 
means to say. He has definite grasp of his thought, and not even 
the cold type of the printed page is able to obliterate the evidences 
of his intense earnestness. His tender manliness, or his manly tender¬ 
ness, throbs in every utterance. One day he read his text, <( Quit you 
like men,® and began his sermon with the words, <( He who wrote 
these words was in every sense a man ! ® The congregation mentally 
assented, but in thought they added: (< And he who now preaches 
these words is in every sense a man, a glorious specimen of manliness. ® 

His consciousness of God, a heritage from the generations of puri¬ 
tan devoutness which came to him through his mother, was a con¬ 
spicuous trait, impressive in all his preaching. The effect of it was 
to leave the hearer awed, subdued, as if he had had an inner vision 
of the Almighty. At the same time there was a tenderness of 
thought and manner that was full of comfort, and a spiritual uplift 
that put new courage into the heart. Both the bereaved and the 
disheartened were refreshed and convinced that life was worth liv- 


68 


PHILLIPS BROOKS 


ing, that despite its catastrophes it was an opportunity rich and 
glorious. 

It is still more difficult to classify Mr. Brooks as a theologian. 
Divers schools of theological thought claimed him as of their num¬ 
ber. He was of the <( broad church ” type, and it is not to be 
doubted that widely different thinkers found in his words evidences 
of sympathy, if not of affinity. His theology was spiritual, as distin¬ 
guished from the formal; it was vital, not mechanical. There are 
two thoughts — or rather there is one two-fold thought — that im¬ 
bued every sermon or address: he presented Jesus Christ as man’s 
true idea of God, and as God’s model of what he would have man 
to become. 

He was an extensive traveler and had many warm friends, espe¬ 
cially in England. Of these, the most prominent was Dean Stanley, 
with whom he exchanged visits. He was a charming correspondent, 
and a volume of his friendly letters stands high in that department 
of literature. His published works are chiefly sermons and addresses, 
including the Bohlen lectures on (< The Influence of Jesus,” and the 
Yale lectures on <( Preaching. ” One of the most beautiful Christmas 
hymns in the English language, (< 0 little town of Bethlehem,” is 
from his pen. 

On April 30, 1891, he was elected bishop of the diocese of Massa¬ 
chusetts, and the election was duly confirmed in accordance with the 
laws of the Episcopal Church. The ceremony of consecration took 
place in Trinity Church on the fourteenth of October in the same 
year. Before entering upon the active duties of the Episcopate, he 
again went abroad. After his return he energetically took up his 
Episcopal duties, but he had hardly time to make his influence felt 
in so large a station as his new field of labor, when he suddenly died, 
January 23, 1893. A fitting memorial is found at Harvard College, 
in the Phillips Brooks House, dedicated to his memory, and to -Pietv, 
Charity, and Hospitality. The inscription on the tablet is as follows: — 

A PREACHER 

OF RIGHTEOUSNESS AND HOPE, 

MAJESTIC IN STATURE, IMPETUOUS IN UTTERANCE, 

REJOICING IN THE TRUTH, 

UNHAMPERED BY BONDS OF CHURCH OR STATION, 

HE BROUGHT BY HIS LIFE AND DOCTRINE 
FRESH FAITH TO THE PEOPLE. 

FRESH MEANING TO ANCIENT CREEDS; 

TO THIS UNIVERSITY 
HE GAVE 

CONSTANT LOVE, LARGE SERVICE, HIGH EXAMPLE. 


6 9 


JOHN BROWN 


He died on the scaffold , but his soul went marching on. 




I n December, 1859, a little more than a year before the Civil War 
began, an old man mounted the scaffold, at Charlestown, Virginia, 
with a firm step and a face that did not blanch in the presence 
of an ignominious death. It was (< Old John Brown of Ossawatomie.» 
He had consecrated his life to a crusade against a great wrong, and 
in his blind, mistaken zeal he had violated the law of his 
country. The law demanded the penalty, and he paid 
it without a murmur of regret. It cannot be doubted 
that he believed he was doing God’s service in 
fighting slavery — believed that he was the chosen 
instrument to set free them that were in bondage. 

However much one may decry him as a crazy fanatic, 
one must pay tribute to his sincerity, his devotion and 
his courage. 

John Brown came of the ruggedest Puritan stock 
He was a direct lineal descendant of Peter Brown, who 
stepped from the deck of the <( Mayflower ” to Plymouth Rock. 

In every generation of the long line there was a John. Both of 
his grandfathers served in the Revolutionary War, and one of them 
died in a barn from a wound received in one of the battles. John was 
born in Torrington, Connecticut, May 9, 1800, a son of Owen and 
Ruth Brown. There the family lived, (< about a mile northwest of 
the meetinghouse,” till John was five years old, when his father re¬ 
moved to Ohio and settled in Hudson. Owen Brown was greatly 
respected and esteemed for his sturdy probity. He was a member of 
the board of trustees of Oberlin College, and died in 1853, at the 
age of eighty-seven. 

There is extant an autograph letter in which John Brown gives 
a sketch of his life, particularly during his boyhood days. He states 
that when he was four years old he stole <( three large brass pins” 
from a girl who lived in the family. When he had been detected, 
his mother administered to him a sound whipping. He also says 
that he was much addicted to (< telling lies,” for which he was often 
subjected to severe discipline in the way of corporal punishment. 
The journey to the West was a long one, for traveling was tediously 




7 ° 


JOHN BROWN 


slow in those days. Most of the distance was made in wagons drawn 
by oxen. Ohio was then a wilderness, with only a few spots here 
and there where settlements had been made and towns started. 
Owen Brown and his family cleared an opening in the forest and 
established a home. It was amid such surroundings that John spent 
the formative period of his life. He grew up a strong, self-willed 
boy, decided in his opinions, and bent on carrying out whatever he 
undertook. When he was thirteen years old he chanced to be thrown 
for a time into the society of a slave boy, who had accompanied his 
master from the South. Young Brown learned something of slavery, 
and there was formed in his mind an aversion which grew into a 
bitter hatred. This feeling increased with his years and became the 
absorbing, dominating idea of his life. This accidental association 
with a negro boy gave to his mind the direction that shaped his 
future course, and led, long afterward, to the building of the famous 
log cabin at Ossawatomie, in Kansas, and, a few years later, to the 
culminating tragedy at Harper’s Ferry, Virginia, which shook the 
republic to its very foundation. 

At twenty, Brown married a young woman of whom he says in 
his autobiographical sketch that she was remarkably plain. w These 
uncomplimentary words are softened by the further statement that 
she was <( neat, industrious and economical. ® We may well believe 
that these characteristics of mind and habit were of far more value 
to the wife of John Brown than mere external beauty. She bore 
him seven children, when death took her from him. A year later he 
married Mary A. Day, of Meadville, Pennsylvania, by whom he had 
thirteen children — twenty in all, several of whom died in infancy or 
early childhood. He instilled into the minds of his sons and daugh¬ 
ters his own detestation of slavery, which he declared to be the sum 
of all abominations. As they grew up around him, father and chil¬ 
dren formed a most unique and extraordinary group. 

Before his marriage, Brown had determined to enter the ministry, 
and with that end in view went East and began his studies. A severe 
inflammation of the eyes compelled him, however, to abandon his 
studies, and he returned to his home in Ohio. He learned the trade 
of a tanner and pursued it for five years. As an illustration of his 
honesty, it is said of him that he never would sell a pound of leather 
until it was thoroughly dry; the added weight of the moisture from 
the vat would have been to his own profit, but to the loss of the 
buyer. At the age of twenty-six he left Hudson, and during the next 
twenty years he was something of a rover. He changed his place of 
residence several times. He lived at other points in Ohio, and then 
in Pennsylvania and Massachusetts. In 1849 he settled at North 


JOHN BROWN 


71 


Elba, New York, and there the family home permanently remained. 
During this time he engaged in various occupations. At one time, in 
company with others, he dealt largely in wool, and visited Europe 
as selling agent for the company. This venture proved disastrous, 
and Brown lost nearly all the money he had previously saved. 

With the passing years, Brown grew more and more intense in his 
hatred of slavery. As the agitation in the North increased and be¬ 
gan to take organized form, none were more earnest in the move¬ 
ment than he. But his zeal was intemperate and fanatical, and was 
not tempered by sound judgment. He was conspicuous in the school 
of Garrison and Phillips and Giddings and Gerrit Smith and a host 
of others, but he lacked the education, the balance, the discernment, 
and the sagacity of these leaders of public opinion. Inexorable to 
the last degree, he was utterly opposed to all compromise. He had no 
patience to await the course of events; he would throttle the giant 
wrong and crush it to earth by brute force. In spirit, he was the St. 
George to slay the great dragon. As early as 1839 he conceived a 
plan to liberate the slaves in the South. He disclosed it to a few 
trusted friends, but received no encouragement from them. While 
they freely shared his passion, their better judgment decided that the 
<( fullness of time w had not yet come, and that to attempt such an 
impossible scheme as that proposed by him would be the height of 
unwisdom. When Brown visited England, in 1848, he divulged his 
plan to emancipationists in that country, but they declared it vision¬ 
ary and wholly impracticable, and gave him no sympathy or promise 
of assistance. 

During the decade from 1850 to i860, events moved rapidly. The 
abrogation of the <( Missouri Compromise w and the passage of the 
Kansas-Nebraska Bill by Congress, in 1854 — which opened those terri¬ 
tories to slavery, provided a majority of their people should so decide 
— caused the smoldering fire throughout the North to burst into a 
fierce and what proved to be a consuming flame. At once there was 
a rush of <( free-state w settlers to Kansas, and among these were four 
of the sons of John Brown — Jason, John, Owen and Frederick.' They 
settled in Pottawattomie County, near the southern line of the terri¬ 
tory, where the conflict with the adherents of slavery was hottest. 
At a public meeting in Essex, New York, called by the opponents of 
slavery, Brown made a fiery speech in which he said that he had 
four sons already in Kansas fighting for freedom, and three others 
who wanted to go, but were deterred by want of means. He asked 
for assistance in arming his sons. All the money needed was promptly 
supplied by contributions, and in a short time Brown had seven sons 
in Kansas, equipped and ready to do battle. The next year the father 


72 


JOHN BROWN 


followed. He did not intend to make his permanent home there 
and left his family at North Elba, New York. He felt that the battle 
between freedom and slavery had begun, and letters which he re¬ 
ceived from his sons fired him with an uncontrollable desire to be with 
them and have a part in the momentous struggle. To have an op¬ 
portunity to fight slavery would be a realization of the one all- 
pervading desire of his life. Brown built a cabin at Ossawatomie, 
where he lived about a year and a half. Foremost in resistance to 
the slavery propagandists, and a born leader, he organized a com¬ 
pany of free-state men, arms and ammunition for which were bought 
with money contributed by friends of the cause in the East. He 
commanded this company in several encounters with the (< border ruf¬ 
fians w — as they were called in the phrase of the time. In one of 
these engagements at Ossawatomie he won a decided victory, putting 
his adversaries to rout, with considerable loss in killed and wounded 
on both sides. He was thrown into a condition of frenzy by the 
brutal murder of one of his sons, Frederick, and he took a solemn 
vow that he would devote his life to the extirpation of slavery. 

Near the end of 1856, Brown and four of his sons returned to 
the East, for the purpose of still further arousing public feeling and 
securing assistance, in men and means, to prosecute the war — for the 
condition in Kansas was little short of actual war. Along the eastern 
and southern borders the country was overrun with men from Mis¬ 
souri and Arkansas, who were bent upon the establishment of slavery 
in Kansas. There they were met by the free-state men and the great¬ 
est turbulence prevailed. Violent outbreaks were of daily occurrence; 
lawlessness ran riot, and life was in constant jeopardy. Every man 
was forced to declare himself on the one side or on the other, for in 
such a contest none could be neutral. During his stay in the East, 
Brown made a number of fervid speeches at Boston and other places. 
Fresh from the scene of conflict, he told of what his own eyes had 
seen, what his own ears had heard, and his passionate vehemence — 
for he put no bridle on his tongue — greatly intensified the excitement 
that existed. In 1857 Brown and his sons returned to Kansas and 
again plunged into the conflict. 

Although the facts are not clear, it would seem to be true that 
at this time Brown was already engaged in perfecting his long-cherished 
scheme to free the slaves. During the autumn of 1857, he organized 
a small body of men whom he knew he could trust, as a nucleus 
for future operations, and gave them military instruction. During 
the next year little progress was made, but there was evidence that 
Brown had not relaxed his purpose and that he was quietly and 
in secret preparing to carry his plan into execution. In May, 1859, 


JOHN BROWN 


73 


he called a convention of the <( True Friends of Freedom,» to meet 
at Chatham, in Canada. This was the first open manifestation of the 
enterprise, and he chose a meeting-place on foreign soil, to avoid pos¬ 
sible molestation in his own country. Strange as it may seem, Brown 
evidently contemplated the organization of a complete government, 
though by what means he expected to carry out his plan can only be 
surmised. At the Chatham meeting — which was attended by only 
a few of his personal adherents — he submitted the draft of a <( Pro¬ 
visional Constitution and Ordinance for the People of the United 
States. w It was adopted, and under it Brown was elected commander- 
in-chief; Richard Realf, secretary of state; J. H. Kagi, secretary 
of war; George B. Gill, secretary of the treasury; Owen Brown, treas¬ 
urer. There is much connected with this enterprise that is myste¬ 
rious and unexplained. No doubt many of the secrets of that 
visionary scheme were buried in the breasts of Brown and his fol¬ 
lowers, for soon afterward death came to nearly all of them in the 
mad attempt to accomplish their design. 

It is more than probable that at the Chatham convention it was 
fully determined that a descent upon the South should be made for 
the purpose of freeing the slaves, and that the attack should be made 
in Virginia. The arrangement of the details was left in the hands 
of Brown. He and his men separated after leaving Chatham, but 
they kept in close touch during the summer, ready to assemble 
whenever and wherever they might be ordered to do so. Brown spent 
some two months in traveling about the country. He made speeches 
at various places; one in Cleveland attracted public attention to a 
notable degree. Of course he said nothing in public of his plan to 
invade Virginia with an armed force and proclaim freedom to the 
negroes, but he did privately unfold the details of his scheme to 
many persons in whom he had confidence. He was obliged to do 
this, for he was without means and needed assistance to procure arms, 
ammunition, and supplies, and to pay other expenses incident to 
such a project. He found many who lent willing ears and opened 
their purses to his needs. Few believed he would succeed, but he 
was so persistent and so sanguine that they cheerfully gave him aid 
and encouragement. For obvious reasons, he did not disclose to any 
the place at which the irruption would occur, if, indeed, he had 
yet reached a decision on this point. He endeavored to secure part 
of the arms that had been provided for the free-state people in 
Kansas, but in this he failed. It was his desire to secure a supply 
of weapons in addition to those required for his men, to be put 
into the hands of the slaves and thus give immediate momentum to 
the insurrection. He obtained muskets, revolvers, and long-handled 


74 


JOHN BROWN 


though the 


number was small in excess of the needs of his 


pikes, 
party. 

As early as June, Brown went to Hagerstown, Maryland, from 
which point he thoroughly observed the situation and surroundings 
of Harper’s Ferry. This is a romantic place, on the Baltimore and 
Ohio Railroad, fifty-seven miles northeast of Washington, at the con¬ 
fluence of the Potomac and Shenandoah Rivers. Brown settled upon 
this as the scene of his operations and proceeded to the preparation 
of the details. Five miles from Harper’s Ferry, among the moun¬ 
tains of Maryland, he found an unoccupied place known as the Ken¬ 
nedy farm, and leased it for a term of months. This he made his 
headquarters, and there he secretly gathered his supplies of arms and 
stores. Suspicion was aroused, and in August the Secretary of War 
was notified of Brown’s whereabouts, but it was not deemed neces¬ 
sary to take any steps in the matter, unless Brown should develop 
a P ur P ose to commit unlawful acts. During Septem¬ 
ber he was quiet and the flutter of excitement that 
the discovery of his presence had caused gradually 
disappeared. 

In the early part of October, Brown summoned his 
men—seventeen whites and five negroes, twenty-two 
in all, with which to challenge and defy the power, 
not only of the state of Virginia, but of the United 
States Government. At early dawn, on October 16, 
Brown led his men across the long bridge spanning the 
Potomac and quickly took possession of the town. A 
number of slaves were told to join the party, the pur¬ 
pose of which was quickly explained to them, and some 
of them did so. The invaders seized and held for 
short time the United States arsenal buildings, took 
possession of railroad trains, and picketed the streets as far as their 
small number would allow. The wild panic that prevailed among the 
people may be imagined, but no language can adequately describe 
it. Brown had instructed his men not to kill unless necessarv in 
protecting their own lives. Bloodshed soon occurred on both sides. 
The citizens took measures for defense, and fatal encounters were 
inevitable. Several citizens, including the mayor, and two or three 
of the invaders were killed, and many more were wounded. Tele¬ 
grams were sent in all directions. Virginia was in a paroxysm of 
excitement and alarm, and the entire country was thrown into a 
ferment. A detachment of United States troops was at once sent 
from Washington, under the command of Colonel Robert E. Lee — 
soon, himself, to command an armed force in insurrection, on a vastly 





a 


JOHN BROWN 


75 


larger scale than that of Old John Brown at Harper’s Ferry. Such 
are the wonderful changes wrought by the swiftly-revolving wheels 
of time! 

Brown knew that he must soon be overpowered, and that it would 
be but a question of a few hours. He drew his little force within 
a small brick building which had been used as a fire-engine house, 
and here he proposed to fight to the death. The doors were secured 
by barricades and the walls were pierced at various points 
for the use of muskets. As soon as the troops arrived, 
the building was surrounded and a surrender was de¬ 
manded. This was refused and fighting was continued 
for hours. Brown had taken within the engine house 
a number of citizens whom he used as hostages. Their 
presence prevented the use of artillery. At length, 
thirty hours after the town had been taken by the 
(< raiders,” a breach was made in the wall and the troops 
rushed in and overpowered the garrison, of whom but 
four remained, who had not been killed or disabled by 
wounds, Brown, himself, among the latter. The captives 
were taken to the county jail at Charlestown, where they 
were guarded by a company of cadets commanded by one who 
afterward became famous as <( Stonewall ” Jackson. Brown and six 
of his men — fifteen had been killed or had died of their w 
were tried and convicted of insurrection and murder and were exe¬ 
cuted on December 2. 

On that day many memorial meetings were held in the North. 
While most persons characterized the enterprise as rash and fool¬ 
hardy to the uttermost, yet to millions slavery had become a thing 
most abhorrent, and their hearts melted in sympathy for poor, mis¬ 
guided old John Brown, while their admiration was kindled by his 
courage and devotion. In the South he was looked upon as a male¬ 
factor, who richly deserved the gallows. For similar acts committed 
in any other state in the Union, North or South, there could have been 
no escape from conviction and punishment. But the influence of his 
<( invasion ” of Virginia was powerful and far-reaching. No other 
one thing did so much to precipitate the mighty conflict of the Civil 
War. And during those four years of fire and blood and death, 
two million men who followed the Union flag felt the quickening 
inspiration of the words that were sung in camp and on the march, 
from the Potomac to the Rio Grande: — 

(< John Brown’s body lies a-moldering in the grave, 

But his soul goes marching on.” 



nds — 


76 


WILLIAM JENNINGS BRYAN 


Conspicuous for his devotion to a principle. 

M r. Bryan has been called an <( end-of-the-century Jefferson,® and 
the limited comparison is not unfair to the founder of the 
Democratic party. Both were noted for the simplicity and the 
purity of their lives and their strong domestic attachments. Both 
were heartily in sympathy with the plain people and desirous to en¬ 
noble and uplift them. Each had a personal following that worshiped 
the man apart from his policies. Here the comparison ends and the 
antithesis begins. Jefferson created a party; Bryan disrupted it. 

Jefferson favored national expansion, going, as he be¬ 
lieved, outside of the Constitution to compass it, for 
the political and economical advantages that it af¬ 
forded; Bryan opposed national expansion and the 
retention of the Philippines, secured to us by the 
Treaty of Paris, which he had helped to ratify. Jef¬ 
ferson’s clear, philosophical mind made him a free 
thinker in religion; Bryan is deeply religious, and his 
favorite illustrations are drawn largely from the Bible, 
has none of Jefferson’s political finesse or fondness 
for metaphysical abstractions, but he held the masses of his party 
together through two fiercely contested campaigns, and he sought re¬ 
sponsibilities, and even created them, with a courage that elicited the 
admiration of his opponents. In this he reminds one of that patron 
saint of Democracy, w Old Hickory® Jackson. Jefferson was not an 
orator, though gifted as a writer and essayist. Bryan has great ora¬ 
torical powers, and as a debater he stands in the front rank of 
contemporary public men. 

Nothing better illustrates the uncertainty of American politics than 
Bryan’s nomination for the presidency in 1896. There were veteran 
Democrats who had hoped for this honor and had reason to expect it. 
Some of them were in line with all the economic and legal princi¬ 
ples for which the party, as a party, was believed to stand, others 
favored principles less radical and more in keeping with Democratic 
traditions; but all were deeply rooted in Democratic faith and held 
the confidence of the delegates. Bryan had gone to Chicago, not as 
an announced candidate, but as a member of the Nebraska delega- 




WILLIAM JENNINGS BRYAN 


77 


tion. His ringing speech on the third day swept the convention off 
its feet, and when adjournment was taken until evening, it was seen 
that a new candidate had risen, whose engaging personality and mag¬ 
netic oratory might upset the plans of the ablest party leaders. 
When the convention reassembled, Bryan was put in nomination. 
His star rose steadily as the successive ballots were taken, and he 
was nominated on the fifth ballot, amid a whirlwind of enthusiasm. 
His speech, breathing defiance to the Republicans, who had declared 
in their platform for the gold standard, and ending with the inspir¬ 
ing words: <( You shall not press down upon the brow of labor this 
crown of thorns; you shall not crucify mankind upon a cross of 
gold,” undoubtedly brought him the nomination. 

Bryan was no untried man when he faced the Democratic con¬ 
vention at Chicago and scored the greatest personal triumph in 
modern politics. He was only thirty-six, but his speeches in Con¬ 
gress, where he remained six years, had given him great promi¬ 
nence as a friend of silver. It was the tariff, however, that gave 
Bryan his first prominence in the House of Representatives. He 
was a free trader, and as such represented trans-Mississippi senti¬ 
ment. The Democratic party, through its Southern and Western 
members, favored lower tariff duties, and Bryan was in thorough 
sympathy with his party. His first tariff speech in the House caused 
a sensation. It attracted no marked attention at the beginning, for 
he was a new member, and not much is expected of new men. But 
as he proceeded, it was seen that he had his subject well in hand, 
and was everywhere piercing the Republican armor of protection. 
This nettled the opposition, and they began to question him, more, 
perhaps, to embarrass him than to obtain a clearer elucidation of his 
views. To their surprise, Bryan answered them with great readi¬ 
ness. Other questions were answered with equal facility, and then 
came a fusillade of interruptions from a half dozen Republicans in 
quick succession. Not for a moment did Bryan betray anger or an¬ 
noyance. He stood in the middle of the chamber, calm and smiling, 
apparently enjoying the contest more than his tormentors, some of 
whom were badly worsted in the encounter. As the giant Antseus, 
in his struggle with Hercules, gathered fresh strength from each 
contact with Mother Earth, so Bryan gathered fresh inspiration from 
Republican assaults. An inclination of the older Democrats to go to 
Bryan’s rescue, was quickly checked when it was seen that he was 
master of the situation, and preferred to be let alone. The Demo¬ 
crats applauded Bryan’s telling points, and it was plain that the 
Republicans themselves enjoyed them, for the House is typically 
American in its characteristics, and quick to recognize merit when- 


78 


WILLIAM JENNINGS BRYAN 


ever and wherever found. And so the contest went on. When 
Bryan’s time expired it was continued, and when it again expired 
it was again continued, until he had spoken the greater part of the 
afternoon. Then his party friends crowded about him and enthusi¬ 
astically congratulated him upon his great success. The Republicans 
were no less cordial in their congratulations, for all had seen in the 
new member from Nebraska, qualities that commanded their admira¬ 
tion, and that would give him from that time a commanding position 
in the House. 

The presidential campaign of 1896 was one of unusual interest and 
warmth. The Republicans nominated William McKinley, an Ohio 
protectionist of the extreme type, believing that the leading issue 
would be the tariff, and had placed him on a platform declaring for 
the gold standard. It was indeed a bold step, but that party had 
come to the parting of the ways and was in no mood for trifling. 
The time had passed for misleading utterances regarding the standard 
of value. It was certain that the Democrats would declare for free 
silver. The Republicans, largely from principle, and to some extent 
from policy, took the other horn of the dilemma, and announced 
that, until international bimetallism could be secured with the leading 
nations of the world, the existing gold standard should be maintained. 

Then came the Democratic convention at Chicago and Bryan’s mag¬ 
netic speech and nomination. The platform, cleverly constructed to 
win the support of the discontented and unfortunate of all shades of 
political opinion, fell like a wet blanket on the Eastern Democrats, 
but met with surprising responsiveness in the Middle West, the 
Rocky Mountain country, and the South. Its essential features were 
a declaration for free coinage, and a denunciation of the Federal 
judiciary for its injunction proceedings against the lawless railway 
rioters. It assured to Bryan the unanimous support of the Populists, 
a notably strong organization holding the balance of power in many 
Western states, and in the silver Republican states beyond the 
Mississippi, extending to the Pacific coast. Several hundred delegates 
protested vainly against a declaration of principles so contrary to 
sound business policy, but they were overborne and many of them 
withdrew from the convention. The platform and the man looked 
for a time to be invincible, and the reason was not hard to find. 

There was great suffering and distress over all the country, not 
alone in the commercial and manufacturing communities, but among 
the agriculturists. The price of farm products had gradually de¬ 
clined, and farmers were told that the decline was caused by the 
demonetization of silver. <( Open the mines to the free coinage of 
silver, restore silver to its place as a money metal, and there will be 


WILLIAM JENNINGS BRYAN 


79 


a revival of prosperity such as we have not seen since the flush days 
of the Civil War.” So spoke the silver mine owner and his repre¬ 
sentatives in Congress. So spoke the politician, quick to see that 
<( Sixteen to one ” was a catchy phrase, and eager to ride into power 
on the popular wave of enthusiasm created by it. It came to the 
debt-ridden farmer and the idle workingman like a ray of sunshine 
out of a night of gloom and despair, bringing with it the hope and 
promise of better things. Wheat was sixty cents a bushel, corn a 
drug on the market, and interest rates' for money ranged from eight 
to fourteen per cent per annum. It can surprise no one that under 
such circumstances the farmer should be discontented and lend a 
willing ear to the siren song of free coinage. 

As the campaign progressed, Bryan developed in the West a strength 
that bade fair to be overwhelming. East of the Alleghanies he was 
weak, by reason of the wholly different views on the silver question 
which there prevailed. Impressed with what he considered the justice 
of his cause, and desirous to challenge his opponents on their own 
ground, Bryan journeyed to New York, the very heart of the (< enemy’s 
country,” and on August 12, addressed an immense audience at Madi¬ 
son Square Garden. The trip from Nebraska had been a continuous 
ovation, and he had reason to believe that the body of the people, 
without regard to state lines, were in sympathy with him. He could 
have had in Colorado, the home of free-silver agitation, no more en¬ 
thusiastic reception than that which awaited him in New York. 
Great crowds gathered about Madison Square Garden long before 
the doors were opened, and when the interior of the building was 
filled as it had been filled few times in its history, those who were 
outside demanding admission seemed in no way diminished in num¬ 
ber. Such a reception would have quickened the pulse of a less 
emotional man than Bryan, and for Bryan it was the proudest day 
of his life. It was a hopeful sign of victory, and of new triumphs 
where they had not been expected. Bryan’s speech, although it 
pleased the masses, could not stand the test of careful analysis, and 
it destroyed his last hope of carrying New York. It frightened con¬ 
servative Democrats into the ranks of the opposition. 

So far as the East was concerned, Bryan’s enthusiastic reception 
in New York caused the Republican managers no alarm. Eastern 
sentiment was overwhelmingly for <( sound money, ” and Bryan’s “dash 
into the enemy’s country ” had deepened the opposition to him. 
The furore that he created was properly regarded as an incident of 
the campaign, largely due to curiosity, and not as an expression of 
popular approval, either of the man or of his policies. Bryan doubt¬ 
less put his own interpretation upon his reception, but as time 


8o 


WILLIAM JENNINGS BRYAN 


passed it became apparent even to him that the East was hopelessly 
lost. Both parties transferred the fight beyond the Alleghanies, and 
Ohio, Indiana, Illinois, Michigan, Iowa, Wisconsin, Minnesota and 
Kansas, and the border States of Delaware, Maryland, West Virginia 
and Kentucky, became the theater of the most fiercely contested 
campaign in the history of American politics. It was known in the 
annals of the time as a <( whirlwind * campaign, and no word better 
describes it. Bryan visited every (< doubtful w state, speaking fre¬ 
quently a dozen times a day. His largely attended meetings and the 
enthusiasm created by his presence gave to his tour a fictitious im¬ 
portance. It was obvious that the crowds he addressed were largely 
composed of Republicans, or of Democrats who would not support 
him, but Bryan’s managers were not so impressed, and they believed 
that the great outpouring of people foreshadowed his election. Had 
his party been united, Bryan would have won. But it was not 
united, and nearly a million Democrats withdrew from it on the 
money question alone. The great corporate interests — the banks, the 
railways, the insurance companies — and all the <( protected w interests 
threw the weight of their influence into the Republican scale and 
Bryan went down to defeat. 

Bryan sounded the keynote of the next campaign in an announce¬ 
ment made public two days after the election, in which he said that 
the friends of bimetallism had not been vanquished, but had simply 
been overcome; that they believed the gold standard to be a con¬ 
spiracy of the money changers against the welfare of the human 
race, and that they should continue their warfare against it. 

During the war with Spain, Mr. Bryan showed his patriotism by 
offering his services in a military capacity. He was commissioned 
colonel of a regiment of Nebraska volunteers, and was for several 
weeks in one of the camps of instruction. But only a few of the 
volunteers had any opportunity for active service, as the war ended 
with the surrender of the Spanish force at Santiago, and Colonel 
Bryan laid aside his regimentals and returned to civil life. 

The presidential campaign of 1900 was in the main a repetition 
of that of 1896, with the same candidates and substantially the same 
platforms. For just one moment Bryan reached the exalte'd height 
of a true statesman, in his acceptance speech at Indianapolis, where 
he spoke with an eloquence, a gravity, and a dignity, with a com¬ 
prehension of high politics and a sense of responsibility, that led 
serious men to believe that he had found himself at last. But the 
impression passed with his speedy relapse, and the Indianapolis 
speech, upon which his fame as a public man must ultimately rest, 
became a mere flashing glimpse of what might have been. Theo- 


WILLIAM JENNINGS BRYAN 


8l 


dore Roosevelt, the Republican vice-presidential candidate, was billed 
for a Rough Rider, cowboy national tour in the interest of his party, 
and fearful of inroads upon the emotional, unthinking crowd that 
Bryan had in mind whenever he spoke of the free and sovereign 
people, the latter went upon another whirlwind tour as an offset to 
Roosevelt, in which he made a record-breaking score for physical 
and vocal endurance. 

At the election in November, 1900, Bryan was for the second 
time defeated by McKinley. The verdict of the people, as expressed 
by the popular vote and the electoral vote, was even more emphatic 
than in 1896. From his pleasant home at Lincoln, Nebraska, the 
greatest modern challenger of the intrenched Republican party con¬ 
tinues in w The Commoner,® a newspaper established by him, his 
fight for (< the people’s money,® and his warfare upon the gold stand¬ 
ard, the national banking system, the monopoly tariff, the trusts and 
combinations, the imperialism that reached out to exploit wealth from 
distant peoples while holding them by military force. All these, he 
argues, are abuses of political and monetary power that tend to put 
the (< common people,® as President Lincoln termed them, beneath 
the feet of privilege. Mr. Bryan’s two defeats did not cast a shadow 
upon his personal life and character, the purity and earnestness of 
which have commanded the admiration of the world. The great 
business judgment of the country condemns the financial policy of 
which he is the embodiment and exponent, and it was against this, 
and not against William Jennings Bryan, that a million members of 
his own party cast their votes. 

1—6 


82 


WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT 


Who wrote poetry and built up a newspaper. 





I n the summer of 1817, a small package of manuscript poems was 
left at the office of the <( North American Review, M in Cambridge, 
Massachusetts. No name accompanied it, nor was there anything 
whatever that would afford a clue to the authorship. The package 
fell into the hands of William Phillips, one of the editors, who in 
due time opened it for a cursory examination. He did 
not for an instant imagine that he would find any¬ 
thing out of the ordinary, and no doubt expected 
that a few minutes would be sufficient to consign 
the anonymous manuscript to the capacious office 
waste-basket. One of these poems bore the title 
(< Thanatopsis,* and this Mr. Phillips began to read. 
Before he had read a dozen lines, his attention was 
fixed and his interest aroused as they had not been 
for many a day. The lofty thought, clothed in purest 
diction and formed in smoothly flowing lines, was a revelation to 
him. When he had finished it, he seized his hat and sought his 
editorial colleagues, that he might submit to them the new-found 
gem of poesy. It was read aloud, after which Richard H. Dana, 
who had been an intent listener, said: (< Ah! Phillips, you have been 
imposed upon; there is no one on this side of the Atlantic capable 
of writing such verse. w <( Thanatopsis w , was printed anonymoiisly in 
September of the same year. It attracted immediate and widespread 
attention and awakened the greatest curiosity as to its authorship. 
The unanimous judgment of the literar) T public declared it to be 
the finest composition that had yet appeared on the Western Conti¬ 
nent. William Cullen Bryant was but eighteen years old when 
he wrote (< Thanatopsis.® He kept it five years before he could 
summon the courage to offer it for publication. Had he written 
nothing else, he would still have occupied a place among the writers 
of the world, for this enduring contribution to its literature. 

Bryant was directly descended, through both his parents, from 
the purest Mayflower stock. He was born in Cummington, Massa¬ 
chusetts, in 1794. As a child, he was singularly precocious, although 
in his case the light of genius, which burned so brightly in his early 



WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT 


83 


days, did not grow dim with the advancing years of his life. The 
infantile Bryant could walk alone at his first birthday, and at sixteen 
months he knew all the letters of the alphabet. He was frail in 
appearance, and his head was so abnormally large as to cause the 
gravest apprehension on the part of his friends. Many prophesied 
that the child would prove a weakling, and that if he lived to reach 
maturity his life would be a blank. Little, indeed, did any foresee 
the long career of physical and mental activity that was before him, 
covering a period of more than threescore years after he wrote 
<( Thanatopsis. w 

At the age of thirteen, Bryant had begun to write poetry, and 
his early productions bore the marks of genius in a most unusual 
degree. The extraordinary talent that was thus early developed was 
shown in a poetical satire on the embargo established by President 
Jefferson, which Bryant wrote before he was fourteen. It was a 
bright, pointed composition, showing a breadth of thought that could 
scarcely be deemed possible in one so young, to say nothing of the 
command of language and facility of expression which usually come 
only to the practiced writer. The very clever satire evoked much 
comment, and few would believe, until the fact was proved, that it 
had been written by a boy in his early teens. Naturally, his writings 
at that time took their color from the books that he read. Among 
these were the poetical works of Pope, Cowper, Thomson, Southey 
and Kirke White, and by these were inspired most of his juvenile 
poems. 

Bryant spent two years at Williams College, and then studied law. 
Literature was a diversion to him and he had then no idea of 
adopting it as a profession. His friends thought he would make a 
good lawyer, and this opinion was shared to some extent by himself. 
For a time he mixed law and poetry in about equal parts. His taste 
was more for the latter, and it does not appear that he achieved 
any great success as a practitioner at the bar. At twenty-seven he 
married Frances Fairchild. She was the subject that inspired, one of 
his few amatory poems — 

<( O fairest of the rural maids. w 

Indeed, nearly all of his verses whose theme is the tender passion 
were addressed to her, both before and long after she became his 
wife. They were sincerely devoted to each other, and their married 
life was an ideal one in its unbroken peace and happiness. 

Before he was thirty, Bryant was elected to the legislature of Mas¬ 
sachusetts. He had little taste for public life, however, and devoted 
much of his time to writing. He was a voluminous contributor, in 


8 4 


WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT 


both poetry and prose, to the current literature of the time. He 
wrote regularly for the (< North American Review, ” in which he dis¬ 
cussed the topics of the day in a manner that commanded public 
attention. At this time he published his first volume — a collection of 
verses—and the cordiality of its reception had much to do with his 
decision, which soon followed, to devote his life to literature. In 
1825, when thirty-one years of age, he took down his law sign, closed 
his office, informed his friends that he was no longer a lawyer, and 
removed to New York. He began his career in that city as editor 
of a literary publication called the <( New York Review and Atheneum 
Magazine.” This had a precarious existence for a time, and was then 
merged in the (< New York Literary Gazette,” and later in the (< United 
States Literary Gazette.” It was a paper of the highest literary and 
moral tone; among its regular contributors were Bryant, Halleck, 
Willis, Dana, Bancroft, Longfellow and others. But, as Bryant said 
of it, it was <( either too good or not good enough ” for its day and 
generation, and it finally died. 

At thirty-four, Bryant found his proper place. He purchased an 
interest in the (< New York Evening Post,” and soon became its edi¬ 
tor, after a brief probationary service in a subordinate capacity, to 
learn something in a practical way of daily journalism. He continued 
at the head of the editorial department of the <( Post ” for fifty 
years. What he made that paper the world knows. He conducted it 
from the beginning on the high plane of truth and morality, while 
at the same time he spared neither labor nor expense to gather and 
publish the news of the day. He never permitted the employment 
of the meretricious methods of <( sensational ” journalism. It was his 
invariable rule to print nothing but that which he believed to be 
true. By following this rule at the beginning, he very soon built a 
reputation for honesty and fairness which, to the last day of his life, 
was never impaired. His name was a synonym for rectitude, impar¬ 
tiality and incorruptible honor. The profession in America has had 
no brighter exemplar of the purest and best in journalism. 

Notwithstanding the exacting demands of his newspaper duties, Mr. 
Bryant found time for much work in the general field of literature, 
covering a wide range of thought. He was often called on to deliver 
addresses on public occasions, and these were always finished and 
scholarly. He continued to write poetry, and in this he found more 
pleasure than in any other kind of literary work. He wrote poetry 
for seventy years. He began it as a child and did not cease until 
age had palsied his hand. 

Several times during his long and busy life, he sought relaxation in 
travel. Five times he crossed the Atlantic, and spent many pleasant 


WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT 


§5 


months in Great Britain and on the Continent. He was everywhere 
accorded a hospitable reception, not less for his attractive personality 
and stainless character than for his high literary ability and fame. 
He also made a trip to the West Indies and Mexico. He traveled 
for health, pleasure and profit. He had a quick eye to observe, and 
his memory was a storehouse from which he constantly drew facts, 
incidents and illustrations to give point to his writings. Wherever 
he went, at home or abroad, he was the recipient of the highest 
public and private honors.. 

Mr. Bryant's last appearance in public was on May 29, 1878, when 
he delivered an address at the unveiling of a bust of Mazzini, the 
Italian patriot, in Central Park, New York. Although in 
his eighty-fourth year, and physically feeble, his address 
showed little impairment of his mental powers. His white 
hair and beard gave him a striking appearance, and as the 
venerable man stood for the last time before an audience, 
he was an object of not only the deepest interest, but of the 
profoundest respect and esteem. The day was hot and the 
exertion of speaking was too much. As Mr. Bryant closed, 
his strength gave way and he resigned himself to the kind 
attention of General Wilson, an intimate friend. He was first 
taken in a carriage to the general’s residence near by, that 
he might have rest and refreshment before going to his own 
home. On alighting from his carriage, he took the arm of his 
friend and they passed up the stone steps. Just as they had reached 
the top, the aged man made a misstep and fell heavily. His head 
struck the stone platform with such violence as to immediately ren¬ 
der him unconscious. He was taken within and tenderly cared for 
by loving hands and hearts. He recovered consciousness and was 
able to ride to his home, but he never thereafter left it. The con¬ 
cussion caused by the fall proved fatal. He lingered just two weeks 
and then his gentle spirit passed away — June 12, 1878. The highest 
funeral honors were paid to the memory of the deceased. The ob¬ 
sequies were attended by a multitude of people, many of whom had 
come long distances to pay the last tribute of respect to one who 
had done so much for the betterment of mankind. Subsequently, 
one of the public parks of New York was given his name, as a mark 
of respect and appreciation. Mr. Bryant’s home was at Roslyn, on 
Long Island. His wife had been dead many years. He had two 
daughters, to whom he left, by will, the greater part of his large 
property. 

Mr. Bryant’s poems are very numerbus, though few of them are 
of great length. A peculiar feature of his poetic writings is the 



86 


WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT 


intense recognition of mortality, in humanity and in nature. He wrote 
much upon death and its related topics. Illustrations of this are: 
“ Thanatopsis,® “The Death of the Flowers,® “The Burial of Love® 
and many others which might be cited. There is in these poems 
nothing morbid, nothing of woe or lamentation, to becloud the face 
and canker the heart. He took a cheerful view of death, from a 
high standpoint of moral philosophy, as in those incomparable lines 
with which “ Thanatopsis ® closes: — 

“ So live that when thy summons comes to join 
The innumerable caravan that moves 
To that mysterious realm where each shall take 
His chamber in the silent halls of death, 

Thou go not like the quarry-slave at night 
Scourged to his dungeon; but, sustained and soothed 
By an unfaltering trust, approach thy grave 
Like one who wraps the drapery of his couch 
About him, and lies down to pleasant dreams. w 

Mr. Bryant’s compositions cover a wide field of themes — touching 
almost every phase of poetry except humor, of which he had little. 
He wrote many patriotic pieces which quicken the pulses and stir the 
emotions to their very depths. He had a love for freedom that found 
frequent expression in stirring verse. “ The Little People of the 
Snow ® is a most exquisite fairy fantasy, and is cited to illustrate 
the versatility of his muse. Most of his poems, however, are grave 
in tone, but they are not of such a nature as to leave in the mind 
of the reader the smallest touch of what we are sometimes pleased to 
call “the blues.® His greatest charm is in his unrivaled skill in 
painting the beautiful scenes in nature, and in the uniformly smooth 
and graceful flow of his lines. 


87 


JAMES BUCHANAN 


A crown of thorns was his presidential heritage. 


ames Buchanan, fifteenth President of the United States, was born 



J near Mercersburg, Pennsylvania, April 23, 1791. He was of 
Scotch-Irish descent, his father having been born in the County 
of Donegal, Ireland, in 1761. James was the second son, and in¬ 
herited the characteristics of both nations, possessing the strong, 
sturdy constitution of the Scotch, and the easy-going, good-natured 
manner of his Irish ancestoi's. His mother, although the daughter 
of a farmer, whose opportunities had been confined within narrow 
limits, was in many respects a remarkable woman. She was 
literary in her taste, and read all of the best books which JP 
it was possible to procure. Ambitious for her sons, she g 
kept informed on all current subjects, so that she might St 
be able to discuss them intelligently with her family. fT. 

It was Buchanan’s intention to devote his whole A 

time and energy to his profession and lead a quiet 
home life, for at that time he was very much in A 

love with a beautiful young woman, Anne C. 

Coleman, to whom he was engaged to be mar- m 

ried. •Unfortunately, malicious foes, under the Bftf At 

guise of friendship, filled Miss Coleman’s ears with iSfA M 
reports derogatory to her lover, and, although she 
suffered keenly in so doing, she broke the engage- 

ment, and left her home soon afterward. Determined to clew'' himself 
in her eyes, Buchanan left no effort imtried to expose the falsenoods told 
of him, but before he could do so, the object of his affections died sud¬ 
denly, leaving him both broken-hearted and bitterly rebellious. It was 
the turning point in his life and changed its whole current, causing him 
to enter with feverish unrest upon a political career. He was offered 
a nomination for Congress, which he accepted and was elected, when 
but twenty-nine years of age. He had made ambition the all-powerful 
incentive of his life, and but for the weakness which held him in 
thrall, and caused him to hesitate when prompt, decisive action was 
required, he might have made himself invaluable to the country. A 
great opportunity came to him during his term as President, but he 
failed to grasp it and the outstretched hands of his successor seized 
it firmly, and reaped the reward. 



88 


JAMES BUCHANAN 


Buchanan’s early political principles were those of the Federalist 
party, and he was opposed to the war with England in the early part 
of his career, but when it became necessary to take an active part 
in the matter, he not only made a stirring address in favor of the 
enlistment of volunteers, but also enrolled his own name, consider¬ 
ing it the duty of every patriot to defend his country, without con¬ 
sidering his private opinion in the matter. After the war was ended 
he delivered an oration in which he spoke of the war as (< glorious 
in the highest degree to the American character, but disgraceful to 
the administration. w Naturally this speech caused much comment, 
and it was severely criticized by the public. He did not deserve the 
censure which followed him from time to time, for he was at heart a 
true, loyal patriot, but his impulsive manner of speech was to his 
disadvantage. 

In 1853 President Pierce appointed Mr. Buchanan Minister to Eng¬ 
land. He declined at first to accept the position, as he did not wish 
to leave home, but being convinced that he could best serve the in¬ 
terest of his country by going, he sailed for England to enter upon 
the duties assigned him. Buchanan had been a United States Sena¬ 
tor for many years and then, successively, Minister to Russia and 
Secretary of State in President Polk’s Cabinet. 

In 1856 Mr. Buchanan was nominated as the candidate of the 
Democratic party for President. At this time the slavery agitation 
was at its height, and everywhere, throughout the North and the 
South, could be heard the mutterings of the storm that was ap¬ 
proaching, and which broke near the end of his administration. The 
struggle for supremacy in Kansas and Nebraska was in progress, 
and public opinion was being rapidly crystallized. The people were 
ranging themselves on the one side or on the other, and the spirit of 
antagCv 'tween the supporters and the opponents of slavery 

was daily o^oming more intense and uncompromising. It was not 
difficult to foresee that the next administration would be a stormy 
one, requiring a clear judgment and a strong hand. The old Whig 
party had dissolved and had disappeared from the political field. In 
its place had come the new Republican party, full of life and vigor, 
organized upon the clearly defined principle of opposition to slavery. 
It was composed of the anti-slavery elements of all parties. To it 
had been attracted many thousands of persons in the North who had 
hitherto acted with the Democratic party, but who had gradually be¬ 
come estranged from it by the aggressive domination of the Southern 
element. The Republican party held its first national convention in 
1856, and nominated John C. Fremont as its candidate for President. 
The campaign was a heated one, but Buchanan carried all of the 


JAMES BUCHANAN 


89 


states of the South, and enough of those in the North to give him a 
good majority of the electoral vote. He was inaugurated March 4, 
1857. He had never married, and his niece, Miss Harriet Lane, was 
installed as mistress of the White House, a station which she filled 
with admirable grace and tact. 

Mr. Buchanan had four troublous years in the presidential chair. 
His position was a peculiarly trying one. Much the larger part of 
his vote in the electoral college, by which he was elevated to the 
presidency, had come from the South, and the people of that section 
expected him to stand between them and the rising tide of anti¬ 
slavery sentiment and action in the North. On the other hand, the 
Northern people demanded that he should resist, with all his official 
power, the growing spirit of disunion — which did, before his term 
had ended, culminate in the secession of a number of the Southern 
states. While Mr. Buchanan was strong in his adherence to the 
Union, and had, personally, no sympathy with the Hotspurs who 
would destroy it, he lacked the decision and the firmness to meet the 
emergency — such a spirit as was shown by Andrew Jackson, when 
the South Carolina nullifiers, under the leadership of Calhoun, re¬ 
belled against the national authority. 

The crisis came after the election of Mr. Lincoln, in i860, which 
was made the pretext for the secession of the <( cotton states.” War 
was imminent, and Mr. Buchanan’s greatest concern was that no 
blood should be shed, at least while he was the executive head of 
the nation. There was a manifest desire to shift to the shoulders 
of his successor the responsibility of any act that might further irri¬ 
tate the South and tend to precipitate a conflict of arms. There 
were diverse elements in his Cabinet, the Southern members of which 
were using their positions to aid the cause of secession. Members 
of the Cabinet from the North, among them Edwin M. Stanton, did 
their utmost to induce the President to grapple with the question 
which so seriously threatened the peace of the country, and the meet¬ 
ings of the Cabinet were often marked by stormy scenes. 

In December, i860, after South Carolina had passed an ordinance 
of secession, there was need of provisions and other supplies for 
the garrison of Fort Sumter, in Charleston Harbor. It was further 
desired to send a reinforcement of United States soldiers, with am¬ 
munition and other accessories of war. The South Carolina author¬ 
ities refused to permit this to be done. They erected land batteries 
at points which commanded the sea approaches to Fort Sumter and 
made no concealment of their hostile purpose. The situation was a 
most critical one, and there were many heated discussions in the 
meetings of President Buchanan with his Cabinet, as to the course 


9° 


JAMES BUCHANAN 


that should be pursued. The whole country was stirred to its foun¬ 
dation. The general feeling at the North was that the government 
should, at any cost, throw into the fort, not only provisions but rein¬ 
forcements and munitions to any extent that might be necessary to 
put it in the strongest possible condition for defense — for there was 
every reason to believe that the Confederate authorities would attempt 
its reduction. Mr. Buchanan vacillated for a time, striving to put off 
the evil day, but so strong was the pressure upon him that he finally 
directed that an effort should be made to revictual the fort, but that 
no men, arms, or ammunition should be sent. Early in January, 1861, 
the steamer <( Star of the West,® a merchant vessel, was dispatched 
with supplies of food and clothing, but she was fired upon and 
driven off by the batteries which the South Carolinians had erected. 
These were the first shots of the conflict between the North and the 
South, and the immediate effect was to intensify and unite popular 
feeling in each of the two sections. Mr. Buchanan made no further 
attempt to supply Fort Sumter. His policy was a shifty one, with the 
evident purpose of preventing the smoldering fires from bursting 
into a fierce flame during the few weeks that would elapse be¬ 
fore he should yield his seat to Mr. Lincoln. 

In this he was successful. Events moved 
rapidly, but it was not till a month after 
the accession of Mr. Lincoln, that the 
hostile guns opened on Fort Sumter, 
followed by the instant beat of the war 
drums in every part of the land. 

Mr. Buchanan’s retirement was inglo¬ 
rious. In the opinion of the great mass 
of the loyal people he had failed utterly 
to rise to the demands of the emergency 
with which he was confronted. He re¬ 
tired to his home in Wheatland, Pennsyl¬ 
vania, and the wave of war which swept the country buried him 
from sight. He lived to see the great rebellion crushed and the 
L T nion restored. He died in 1869, at the age of seventy-eight. 

A pleasant incident during this administration was an exchange 
of messages of compliment and congratulation between President 
Buchanan and Queen Victoria, on the successful laying of the Atlantic 
cable. These were the first messages that passed under the sea from 
one continent to the other. 




9 1 


DON CARLOS BUELL 


The organiser of the Army of the Cumberland. 


T here is a close parallel between the military careers of General 
George B. McClellan and General Don Carlos Buell, in the 
Civil War. What the former was to the Army of the Potomac, 
the latter was to the Army of the Cumberland. Each rendered to 
his country a service, the value of which cannot be measured in 
words, by organizing out of a chaotic mass of raw volunteers a com¬ 
pact, thoroughly disciplined and well-equipped army, capable of 
achievements never surpassed in the history of wars. Each led to 
the field the army that he had created, but failed to win 
the victories which the impatient people felt that they 
had a right to expect. Whether the disappointing 
performance was the result of ill-fortune, or of in¬ 
capacity for the conduct of great campaigns and 
for the tactical management of large bodies of 
men in the emergency of battle, did not mat¬ 
ter. It was enough to know that they could 
not, or, at least, did not, rise to the de¬ 
mands of the occasion. Experiments were 
costly, in blood and treasure, and when M 
these men had been tried, and in official ^ 
and popular estimation had been found want¬ 
ing, it was inevitable that they should be unhorsed. But nothing 
can detract from the honor that is their due for what they accom¬ 
plished during the early months of the war, in forging the thunder¬ 
bolts which afterward, under other directing hands, were so effect¬ 
ively launched against the enemy. The Army of the Ohio—later 
known as the Army of the Cumberland — was the creation of General 
Buell. During two and a half years, under the leadership of Rose- 
crans and Thomas and Sherman and Grant, that army never yielded 
a field except at Chickamauga; even then it did not loosen its grasp 
on Chattanooga, and two months later settled the account by the 
magnificent achievements of Lookout Mountain and Missionary Ridge. 

Don Carlos Buell was born in Ohio, in 1818. During most of his 
life, however, his home was in Louisville, so that by adoption he 
was a Kentuckian. He finished with high credit the course at the 
West Point Military Academy, and at twenty-three was a lieutenant 




92 


DON CARLOS BUELL 


in the Third United States Infantry. In June, 1846, he went with 
his regiment to Mexico, and served with such distinction at Monterey, 
Contreras and Churubusco, that he received the brevets of captain 
and major. At the battle last named he was severely wounded. 
During the next fifteen years of peace his duties were varied and 
commonplace. 

At the beginning of the Civil War, Buell was appointed a lieu¬ 
tenant-colonel in the staff department of the army. A week later he 
was commissioned a brigadier-general and assigned to the command 
of a division in the Army of the Potomac, which was then in proc¬ 
ess of formation. Although he was but a short time in this station, 
he left his impress upon the troops which he commanded, and that 
division was ever afterward distinguished for its excellent discipline 
and unity. 

In November, 1861, General Buell succeeded General Tecumseh 
Sherman in the command of the Department of the Ohio, with 
headquarters at Louisville. The Secretary of War had declared Sher¬ 
man to be crazy, because he had said that two hundred thousand 
men would be necessary to restore Federal supremacy in the Missis¬ 
sippi Valley, and so relieved him of his command. For two months 
Buell was engaged in the work of organizing the Army of the Ohio, 
after the year 1862 known as the Army of the Cumberland. New 
regiments were arriving almost daily from the states of the West and 
Northwest. They were grouped into brigades and then into divisions, 
under carefully chosen leaders. The men were drilled and disciplined 
in the most thorough manner; and all the details in the matters of 
clothing, food, equipment and transportation to mobilize the army, 
showed a master hand. No finer bodies of volunteers ever took the 
field than the divisions of General Buell which, during the winter 
of 1861-62, left their camps of instruction along the banks of the 
Ohio. 

Simultaneously with the operations of Grant against Fort Don- 
elson, Buell pushed a strong force southward from Louisville, press¬ 
ing backward the advanced detachments of the Confederate army, 
which was commanded by General Albert Sidney Johnston. The fall 
of Donelson was immediately followed by the Confederate evacuation 
of Bowling Green and Nashville. The panic in the Tennessee capi¬ 
tal had scarcely abated when Buell’s advance division crossed the 
Cumberland River and occupied the city. The United States flag 
was hoisted upon the public buildings, and there it remained through¬ 
out the war. Johnston marched rapidly a hundred miles to the 
southwest of Nashville, crossed the Tennessee River, and took 
position at Corinth, in Mississippi. Grant, with six divisions, ascended 


DON CARLOS BUELL 


93 


the Tennessee River and debarked at Pittsburg- Landing, on the 
west bank of the Tennessee, twenty miles from Corinth. During the 
latter part of March, five divisions of Buell’s army, with an effective 
strength of thirty thousand, marched to join the army of Grant. 
The divisions left Nashville, one each day, successively, that the road 
might not be encumbered by the troops and wagons of the army 
moving in a mass. The march across Tennessee to Savannah, on 
the river, was a leisurely one, for a sense of safety was felt by Grant 
at Pittsburg Landing, and there seemed to be no occasion for haste 
on the part of Buell. General Nelson, who commanded Buell’s ad¬ 
vance division, was delayed at two or three points where it was 
necessary to rebuild bridges that had been destroyed by the enemy. 
Toward the end of the long march, Nelson quickened his pace. It 
proved most fortunate that he did so, and that the divisions of McCook 
and Crittenden followed closely. 

Apprised of the near and rapid approach of Buell, Johnston, at 
Corinth, determined to strike Grant before a junction could be made. 
This he did, in the early morning of Sunday, April 6, and the battle 
of Shiloh ensued. The attack was wholly unexpected, and there had 
been a singular lack of measures to render the position defensible 
and to guard against surprise. Grant’s army was roughly handled on 
the first day. More than half of his brigades were driven from their 
camps and the organizations were <( knocked to pieces, w to use the 
words of General Sherman. Thousands were taken captive and 
many thousands more fled from the field in utter demoralization. By 
night scarce a third of the army was in condition to make effective 
resistance. As timely as the coming of Bliicher at Waterloo, was 
the arrival of three divisions of Buell, at the close of that day of fire 
and blood and disaster. Dawn of April 7 saw sixteen thousand fresh 
and eager men, in compact lines, fronting the enemy. Back over 
the ground which they had gained the previous day, the hard-fighting 
Confederates were steadily pressed, and soon after noon their move¬ 
ment became a hurried retreat. General Buell, subordinate to Grant 
in command, handled his troops faultlessly and exhibited the high¬ 
est personal gallantry. For his conduct on that field he fairly 
earned the meed of praise and honor that history will accord him. 

During the siege of Corinth, General Buell was in command of 
his troops, which formed a part of the great army of a hundred 
thousand men that, under General Halleck, slowly closed in upon 
Corinth. At the end of May, General Beauregard — who had suc¬ 
ceeded to the command of the Confederate army when Johnston 
fell at Shiloh — decided to evacuate, and withdrew to Tupelo, Mis¬ 
sissippi. Halleck’s army was broken up and Buell, with his divisions, 


94 


DON CARLOS BUELL 


marched far to the eastward, along the line of the Memphis and 
Charleston Railroad. His objective point, if it should be found possi¬ 
ble to reach it, was Chattanooga; but at Bridgeport, thirty miles west 
of that place, he found that the great bridge over the Tennessee 
River had been destroyed, and he made no progress beyond that 
point. During the summer months, his forces were much scattered, 
detachments occupying various points in middle Tennessee and north¬ 
ern Alabama. The authorities at Washington were impatient that 
Buell should <( do something, w and some sharp messages were ex¬ 
changed, but most of the time the troops lay inactive and nothing of 
moment was accomplished. 

Meanwhile the Confederates were (< doing something w behind the 
screen of the Tennessee River and the encircling mountains. General 
Bragg had been placed in command at Chattanooga, and during July 
and August he drew together an army of forty thousand men. With 
this force, he suddenly sounded his bugles and pushed northward 
across middle Tennessee and into Kentucky. At the same time a 
cooperating force under Kirby Smith marched from Knoxville and 
swept into eastern Kentucky. This unexpected movement completely 
disjointed whatever plans Buell may have had for future operations. 

There u r as but one thing to do, and that was to col¬ 
lect his scattered forces with all speed and hasten 
after Bragg. To the northward there w r as nothing 

that could stay the march of Bragg to the Ohio 

River and beyond. In all haste the detachments 
were set in motion and concentrated at Nashville. 
Then came the long scamper for Louisville, nearly 
two hundred miles away. Bragg had the shorter line 
and some days the start. The emergency was critical, 
and Buell’s soldiers were at times pushed to the limit of 
endurance. The Confederate cavalry cut the lines of sup¬ 
ply and the Union soldiers were sorely in need of cloth- 
ng, shoes and rations. The country, devastated by the 

armies, furnished little to eke out the scant supply, and 

sometimes for days together the men w^ere obliged to march on half 
rations. (< Forward® was the constant command, and in the last 
days of September, weary, hungry, ragged, and many actually bare¬ 
foot, the soldiers entered Louisville. It cannot be doubted that Bragg 
might have captured the city had he shown more enterprise. But 
he did one thing most thoroughly, and that was to create the wildest 
alarm throughout the adjacent states of the North. An invasion was 
daily expected and for a time the panic w^as excessive. All available 
troops were rushed to Louisville to augment the army of Buell, and 



DON CARLOS BUELL 


95 


the latter was imperatively ordered to destroy Bragg’s army or drive 
it out of Kentucky. 

After a week to refit his army, Buell marched on the first day 
of October. Of the long chase but little need be said. Judging 
from the movements, it would appear that neither commander wanted 
to fight. Bragg’s only desire seemed to be to get out of Kentucky, 
and Buell’s that nobody should get hurt. There was one severe 
fight at Perryville, but it was only an unexpected collision between 
portions of the armies. The battle was unintentional, bloody and 
wholly inconclusive. Bragg escaped through Cumberland Gap into 
Tennessee, with twenty-five hundred wagons which he had loaded 
with food supplies from the Kentucky harvest. Buell outnumbered 
him in men and guns and might have brought him to battle, but 
he did not. The Washington authorities could not overlook the 
faults of Buell’s management after leaving Corinth, and when he 
had given over the chase in Kentucky and assembled his army about 
Nashville, he was relieved of his command by General Rosecrans. 
A military commission was appointed to inquire into the conduct 
of General Buell. Its sessions lasted several months, and its finding 
justified the action of the War Department in his supersedure. He 
was mustered out of the volunteer service in May, 1864, and in June 
he resigned his commission in the regular army. 

After the war General Buell was for some years president of the 
Green River Iron Works, and later was United States pension agent 
at Louisville. He died in 1898, at the age of eighty. 


9 6 


JOHN CALDWELL CALHOUN 


The exponent of the doctrine of State Rights. 


W hen the sorrowing South Carolinians placed on the great mar¬ 
ble slab above the grave of their prophet, priest and king, 
the one word w Calhoun, w they believed that in that simple 
epitaph they had epitomized all that the man had been, all that his 
work had been, better than any legend or eulogy that might have 
been carved on the ample surface of the stone. Their judgment 
was not wrong; for as in his life Calhoun was a man apart, marked 
out by those qualities of mind and temperament that made up his 
^ somber and pathetic individuality, so his part and influence 
'' r in shaping the course of history toward what must ever re¬ 

main one of the greatest of our epochs, make it sure that 
the sound of his name will not for many generations fall 
upon untutored ears. 

The life of a nation cannot be viewed or esti¬ 
mated by such narrow periods as compass the life 
of the individual, and though Calhoun has been 
dead more than fifty years, his era is still too close 
|| to that great upheaval in the national life, largely 
due to himself, and following shortly after his 
death, to enable us yet to judge where history will 
finally place him. Already we see the steady movement of opinion 
toward the final conclusion that the Civil War, and all the condi¬ 
tions and influences that led up to it, were inevitable; that they 
had their origin in causes and circumstances too deep and broad 
for control by any individual, or group or succession of individ¬ 
uals, and that we may not, for all time, use the slavery agitation, 
secession and the war which thereby was caused, as tests by which 
to concede or deny to our statesmen the name of patriots, if 
their motives were pure and their acts conformable to their motives. 
If the Revolution had failed, the name of Washington would have 
been long under a cloud; yet his just fame would have come at last, 
and his claim to it would have been as good at the beginning as at 
the end. As the future would have judged the men of the Revolu¬ 
tion if it had not succeeded, so must the future be the jiidge of the 
men who brought on the war of 1861-65. 




JOHN CALDWELL CALHOUN 


97 


Calhoun was one of the ablest and most influential statesmen of 
the country, during the period which began with the last war with 
England and continued till his death, nearly forty years afterward. 
In the various high positions to which he was called — Representa¬ 
tive in Congress, United States Senator, Secretary of War, Secretary 
of State, and Vice-president—he was always and everywhere a 
leader, and filled a large space in the history of his time. He was 
an earnest and powerful champion of the South, and especially of 
his own state; most notable for his devotion to the doctrine of state 
rights to the extreme point of nullification, in his application of 
which he evoked the personal and official wrath of President Andrew 
Jackson, by defying the power of the national government. Calhoun 
was a unique and striking figure in American politics, the originator of 
the doctrine which, eleven years after his death, was carried to its con¬ 
summation in the secession of eleven states from the Federal Union. 

John C. Calhoun was a native of South Carolina, the state which 
was his home, and to which he bore true and steadfast allegiance, 
during his whole life. He was born in 1782, in the closing days of 
the War of the Revolution. His father, Patrick Calhoun, was born 
in Ireland and was brought to America at the age of six years. 
His mother was also Irish, the daughter of a Presbyterian emigrant 
from the <( Emerald Isle.” Born of such stock, it is not difficult to 
understand that John had, by inheritance, an implacable hostility to 
Great Britain; and when he became an influential factor in the gov¬ 
ernment, he was unyielding and aggressive in his resistance to the 
encroachments of the mother country. His father had been an ar¬ 
dent champion of the patriot cause during the war for independence. 
As a boy, John was ambitious and studious, but his pursuit of an 
education was checked by the death of his father, who left to his 
family means barely sufficient for existence. He was at length able 
to attend a private academy, and afterward to enter Yale College, 
from which he was graduated at the age of twenty-two. His own 
preference was not a professional life, but that of a plain planter. 
At the urgent solicitation of friends, however, he entered upon a 
thorough course of law study. At the same time he cultivated his 
marked talent for public speaking. He never won a reputation at 
the bar, because he did not try to do so; in his early manhood he 
entered public life and stayed there. His aptitude for politics and 
his great natural ability were stipplemented by his law study aiM his 
practice in speaking, and he stepped into the public arena thoroughly 
equipped to achieve success and fame. 

The year 1811 was an eventful one in the life of Calhoun. It 
marked his marriage — to a second cousin, who brought him a com- 
1—7 


9 8 


JOHN CALDWELL CALHOUN 


fortable property — and his entrance into Congress, at the age of 
twenty-nine. That body had been called, by proclamation of Presi¬ 
dent Madison, to convene in extraordinary session a month earlier 
than the regular time of meeting in December. A critical emergency 
in the career of the young republic had come, and this gave to Cal¬ 
houn the opportunity to leap into immediate prominence. For three 
or four years a struggle had been in progress within the adminis¬ 
tration party, between those who were in favor of war with England 
for the redressment of grievances, and those who counseled com¬ 
promise and peace. The question had been the leading one in the 
election of members of the new Congress, and the war party had 
gained a complete triumph. Among the new members were several 
ardent, impetuous young men who were determined to force the ad¬ 
ministration to adopt a war policy. Conspicuous among these was 
Calhoun. Madison and his Cabinet were for peace, and the two fac¬ 
tions joined issue on the election of Speaker of the House of Repre¬ 
sentatives. The war party was successful, by an emphatic majority, 
and thereafter events moved rapidly. Mr. Calhoun was made a 
member of the committee on foreign relations, and a belligerent re¬ 
port, drawn by him, was speedily submitted to the House. It clearly 
outlined the policy which the majority had determined to pursue, 
and declared that the time had come for choosing between tame sub¬ 
mission, and resistance by all the means which Providence had placed 
within the Nation’s reach. By the retirement of the chairman of the 
committee, Mr. Calhoun became its head, and in that capacity intro¬ 
duced in the House a bill for an embargo of sixty days, preliminary 
to a declaration of war. President Madison was unable to withstand 
the pressure upon him and sent in a war message. Calhoun sub¬ 
mitted, from his committee, a vigorous report in favor of immediate 
action, and followed it up by a bill declaring war against Great 
Britain. He was a potent influence in securing its passage, and 
during the continuance of the war he was unchanging in his advo¬ 
cacy of its vigorous prosecution. 

On every important governmental question of his time, Mr. Cal¬ 
houn had decided opinions, and was always on one side or the other, 
never in a neutral position. He was influential in carrying out the 
project of a United States bank, which grew out of the financial 
necessities of the government in consequence of the large expense 
of conducting the war with England. Public men were divided on 
the question of a government bank. It was strongly opposed by many 
because they believed it to be unconstitutional, while others, who 
sought to relieve the government from its financial embarrassments, 
were confident that a way could be found to evade the constitutional 


JOHN CALDWELL CALHOUN 


99 


questions involved. The bank was established, in the face of fierce 
opposition, although the scheme devised by Calhoun was much changed 
and modified as to its details. The bank did not become permanent, 
and during the time of its existence it was the cause of endless trouble, 
personal and political, and official scandal. But Mr. Calhoun believed 
in it at the time, and in after life he always defended it as an 
emergency measure. He was wont to say that the bill never would 
have carried but for him, and this is probably true. 

Another important topic in which Mr. Calhoun took a lively in¬ 
terest was that of internal improvements, to afford better facilities 
for transportation to meet the needs of commerce. The necessity 
for this had been shown by the great cost and difficulty of trans¬ 
porting troops and supplies during the war. The President, in a 
message to Congress, had recommended a system of roads and canals 
which he believed might properly be established by the national 
authority. The President admitted that there were objections to 
such a measure on constitutional grounds, but he urged that it was 
necessary to the public welfare, and expressed the belief that the 
legal obstructions could be overcome. Mr. Calhoun was the champion 
of this enterprise in the House, and secured the passage of a bill by 
the narrow margin of two votes. It also passed the Senate, but 
President Madison, notwithstanding the fact that he had recommended 
such a measure to Congress, killed it by a veto. Mr. Calhoun was 
greatly mortified and humiliated, and spared not in his denunciation 
of the President. This occurred just at the close of Madison’s second 
term, with which also ended Calhoun’s service in the lower branch 
of Congress. 

Mr. Calhoun was immediately called into the Cabinet of President 
Monroe, as Secretary of War. He found the department in a greatly 
disorganized condition, with outstanding and unsettled accounts 
amounting to fifty millions of dollars, and much confusion in every 
branch of the service. He entered with the iitmost energy upon the 
work of bringing order out of chaos. He took measures for the speedy 
adjustment of all claims against the department, introduced systematic 
methods for the transaction of public business, and drafted a bill for 
reorganizing the staff of the army. The long and bitter hostility 
between Calhoun and Andrew Jackson had its origin at this time. 
Jackson was a major-general of the army, with the laurels yet green 
which he had won at the battle of New Orleans. He commanded 
the Southern department, and was sent to lead in person the forces 
operating against the Seminole Indians, under orders drawn by Mr. 
Calhoun himself. Jackson gave to these orders a wide and perhaps 
unjustifiable interpretation, by which he took to himself a large dis- 

L.ofC. 


IOO 


JOHN CALDWELL CALHOUN 


cretionary authority. He afterward claimed that he was also influ¬ 
enced by an intimation, privately conveyed to him, that it would be 
in accord with the wish of the administration if he would take pos¬ 
session of the territory of Florida, which at that time belonged to 
Spain. With impetuous zeal, Jackson severely punished the Semi- 
noles and then proceeded to make war on the Spaniards. This called 
forth a vigorous protest from the Spanish government, through its 
minister at Washington. In a Cabinet council, called to consider the 
subject, Calhoun maintained that Jackson had exceeded his orders 
and that he should be brought to trial. John Quincy Adams, Secre¬ 
tary of State, took the opposite view, and his opinion prevailed with 
the President, so that Jackson was sustained. A rupture followed 
between Calhoun and Jackson which was far-reaching in its conse¬ 
quences, and which, when Jackson became President, caused great 
annoyance and embarrassment to Calhoun. 

For eight years Mr. Calhoun filled the position of Secretary of War 
with marked ability, and his reputation as a man of affairs grew 
steadily. He was yet young, scarcely more than forty, but already 
he was much talked of as a candidate for President, to succeed 
Monroe. But there was a number of other prominent candidates, 
and as a matter of expediency it was determined that Calhoun should 
be a candidate for Vice-president and that his friends should support 
Jackson for the presidency. At the election there were four tickets 
in the field, nominated by as many parties and factions, for the poli¬ 
tics of the country was then in a greatly disturbed condition. The 
electoral vote was divided between John Quincy Adams, Jackson, 
Clay and Crawford. The election was thrown into the House of 
Representatives, where Adams was chosen President and Calhoun, 
Vice-president. A coalition between the supporters of Jackson, Cal¬ 
houn and Crawford resulted, four years later, in the election of Jack- 
son as President, and the reelection of Calhoun as Vice-president. 

At this time the tariff was a leading question in public affairs. 
The Eastern and Middle states were almost unanimous for a protec¬ 
tive tariff, while the Southern states, and especially those of the cotton 
belt, were equally united for free trade. Calhoun was the leader 
of the free-trade section of his party, while Mr. Van Buren, then a 
member of the Senate from New York, was the champion of protec¬ 
tion. It was by the latter’s adroit management that the tariff bill 
of 1828, so obnoxious to the South, was passed. It was then that 
Mr. Calhoun began his great battle for the supreme sovereignty of 
the states, as individuals. He pushed forward, in the most aggressive 
manner, the dogma of state rights and, carrying this to its extreme 
limit, he originated and preached vehemently the doctrine of nullifi- 


JOHN CALDWELL CALHOUN 


IOI 



cation — that is, that any state had the right to prevent within her 
limits the execution of such Federal laws, enacted by Congress, as 
she might judge to be unconstitutional. He embodied this doctrine 
in an elaborate and carefully prepared paper, which 
was approved by the legislature of South Carolina 
and published to the world as the <( South Carolina 
Exposition. w At the next session of Congress, the 
first under the Jackson administration, the doctrine 
of nullification was brought forward in the Senate 
by Mr. Hayne, of South Carolina, to whom Air. 

Webster made his famous reply, in which, though 
in direct answer to the speech of Hayne, he struck 
through him at Calhoun, who was the author of the 
heresy. In 1831 Calhoun published a second address 
on the question of state rights, in which he vigorously 
maintained the right of the states to judge of infractions of the 
Constitution, and when necessary to protect themselves by non¬ 
obedience of the laws and resistance to their enforcement. 

In 1832 another tariff law was passed which, in spite of the efforts 
of Mr. Calhoun and others for its modification, was, in the opinion 
of the people of the South, as oppressive and unjust to them as had 
been the bill passed four years before, and this brought matters to 
a crisis in South Carolina. It was now the end of Jackson’s first 
presidential term and Calhoun retired from the vice-presidency. The 
legislature of South Carolina immediately elected Hayne Governor 
and Calhoun a United States Senator. It also passed an ordinance 
to nullify the Federal tariff acts of 1828 and 1832. At its next session 
it enacted additional legislation to aid in carrying out the nullifica¬ 
tion ordinance. The matter had thus assumed a grave aspect, that 
seriously menaced the peace of the country. President Jackson issued 
his famous proclamation in which, after entreating the people of 
South Carolina to reconsider their position and their action, he de¬ 
clared his purpose to sustain the authority of the United States -Gov¬ 
ernment and to compel obedience to its laws, by force if necessary. 
He also sent to Congress a special message asking for further legis¬ 
lation to assist him in enforcing the laws and collecting the revenue. 
Such a bill was passed, largely through the influence of Mr. Webster. 
It was very warmly opposed by Mr. Calhoun and his friends, by 
whom it was stigmatized as the <( Force Bill. M South Carolina chose the 
part of discretion and abstained from opposition to the general gov¬ 
ernment, pending an effort to secure a modification of the tariff laws. 

The fangs of these obnoxious measures were drawn by a compro¬ 
mise bill, drafted by Mr. Clay and passed in 1833. Thus, for the 


102 


JOHN CALDWELL CALHOUN 


time, the threatened storm was averted; but Mr. Calhoun introduced 
in the Senate a series of resolutions, which he supported with an 
elaborate speech, in which he maintained in the strongest possible 
manner the right of nullification. He wished it to be clearly under¬ 
stood that South Carolina had not receded an inch from the position 
she had taken, but had consented to the compromise in the interest 
of peace. Had he been living thirty years later, it cannot be doubted 
that he would have justified the ordinance of secession that pre¬ 
cipitated the war between the sections. Mr. Calhoun had a compara¬ 
tively small following of those who were outspoken in their advocacy 
of his doctrine. For a time they held themselves aloof from the 
regular political parties, and were derisively characterized <( South 
Carolina Nullifiers w ; but Mr. Calhoun did not hesitate to apply to 
himself this term of reproach. He had the courage of his convic¬ 
tions, and in one of his speeches he declared that he had voluntarily 
put himself in the very small minority to which he belonged, to 
serve the gallant state of South Carolina, nor would he turn on his 
heel to be placed at the head of the government. 

While Calhoun was Vice-president, during Jackson’s first term, a 
formidable movement was started which had for its object the elec¬ 
tion of Calhoun to succeed Jackson. This gave serious offense to 
the latter, who was an avowed candidate for reelection, and the 
breach between them, which had been made years before, when Cal¬ 
houn was Secretary of War and Jackson was a major-general, was 
reopened. Their personal antagonism was revived and intensified, 
and their official relations were greatly disturbed. But Jackson was 
too strongly intrenched in the popular favor and was easily reelected. 
Under the circumstances, Calhoun was not to be thought of, even 
had he desired it, for another term as Vice-president with Jackson, 
but, as has been said, he at once entered a sphere of much greater 
activity, in the Senate, where he was a thorn in the side of <( Old 
Hickory.” Calhoun served continuously in this body for eleven 
years. He was always alert, active, aggressive, and a giant in debate. 
Naturally he maintained an attitude of uncompromising hostility to 
the fast-growing Abolition party in the North, and resisted to the 
uttermost its assaults upon the institution of slavery. 

In regard to petitions from the Northern people, asking the aboli¬ 
tion of slavery in the territories and in the District of Columbia, Mr. 
Calhoun strongly opposed their reception by Congress; he insisted 
that Congress had no jurisdiction over the subject of slavery, and 
that all petitions of the character indicated should be rejected. In a 
letter written in 1847, he said that he was in favor of forcing the 
slavery issue on the people of the North, in order that it might be 


JOHN CALDWELL CALHOUN 103 

permanently settled, as he believed that the South was then relatively 
stronger, both morally and politically, than she ever would be again. 

Mr Calhoun served as Secretary of State in the Cabinet of Presi¬ 
dent Tyler, after the office had twice been made vacant, first by the 
ejectment of Mr. Webster, and again by the sudden death of Mr. 
Upshur. He was credited with the origination of the scheme to 
annex Texas to the United States. He was not retained as Secre¬ 
tary of State by President Polk, but was offered the position of Min¬ 
ister to England. This he declined and was returned to the Senate 
by the legislature of South Carolina. He strongly favored 
the war with Mexico and continued the champion of 
slavery and state rights. His health soon gave way 
under the strain of his long and active public life, his 
advancing years and a severe pulmonary disease. 

He prepared a powerful speech against the continued 
aggressions of the Abolitionists, in which he declared 
that the states of the South would be justified in resort¬ 
ing to any measure for their protection. He was physi¬ 
cally unable to deliver this speech, and it was read by 
another Senator. A few days later, though very ill, he 
was in his seat and made a brief speech on a passing 
question. He fell back exhausted and was taken to his lodgings. 
He did not again leave his bed, and died March 31, 1850. Many of 
his colleagues in the Senate, among them some who had been his 
bitterest opposers in debate and in politics, paid lofty tribute to the 
high character, the earnestness, the steadfastness, and ability of Mr. 
Calhoun and his zeal for the public welfare. After his death, his 
writings and speeches were collected and published in six volumes. 



104 


ANDREW CARNEGIE 


A man who gives millions to make the world better. 


I t was reserved for a thrifty Scotchman to mount a commanding' 
pulpit and preach from the text, (< Surplus wealth is a sacred 
trust.” This man is Andrew Carnegie, born in the historic town 
of Dunfermline, Scotland, in 1837. Mr. Carnegie’s text is as old as 
the human race. His great contribution to progress and civilization 
is his pithy development of the theme. He says: <( The possessor of 
urplus wealth is bound to administer it in his lifetime for the 



good of the community. The man who dies possessed of 


^ millions of available wealth — which is free and his to ad¬ 



minister during his lifetime — dies disgraced.” When he 


uttered these words, Andrew Carnegie owned, possibly, 


more (< available wealth, free and his to administer 
during his lifetime,” than any other man. His po¬ 
sition and power gave his theory an importance far 
beyond its trite application to every-day affairs. 


What has this man done to warrant a belief in his 


sincerity ? His father was a writer and speaker in the 


(< Chartist ” propaganda in Great Britain. He emigrated, and settled 
in Allegheny, Pennsylvania, believing that the United States afforded 
a brighter future for his boys than his motherland. Andrew al¬ 
most immediately became a (< bobbin boy ” in a local factory. He 
toiled throughout the daylight and at night studied from books loaned 
by a friend. Before he was thirteen years of age he was promoted 
to the department where the <( bobbins ” were made. Another promo¬ 
tion to a place in the business office inspired young Carnegie with 
the idea of choosing a career. He selected telegraphy,— at that time 
an art and a science which promised to revolutionize the business 
methods of the world. His pay at first was one dollar and fifty cents 
a week, and after perfecting himself as an operator he received three 
hundred dollars a year. 

At this time young Carnegie attracted the attention of Thomas 
Alexander Scott, president of the Pennsylvania Railroad Company, 
by whom he was employed as private operator, at a salary of thirty- 
five dollars a month. He worked with Mr. Scott thirteen years, and 
originated the telegraphic signals of the (< block system,” to promote 



ANDREW CARNEGIE 


10 5 


the safety of moving trains. Carnegie bought ten shares of Adams 
Express Company stock, although he mortgaged his home for the 
purchase money. He assisted Mr. Woodruff to perfect his sleeping 
car and to form a company for its manufacture. During the progress 
of this enterprise, he signed his first note. 

In 1853 Carnegie became a citizen. In i860 he persuaded Presi¬ 
dent Scott and Vice-president Thomson, of the Pennsylvania Com¬ 
pany, to join him in the purchase of a farm on which petroleum 
had been discovered. The cost was forty thousand dollars. Within 
a year, the property was valued at five million dollars, and was dis¬ 
tributing a cash dividend of one million dollars a year. During 
this period of excitement, early in the Civil War, Carnegie was sum¬ 
moned to Washington by the Secretary of War, and placed in charge 
of the military railroads and telegraphs. At the battle of Bull Run, 
he had charge of the communications, and was the last man to 
abandon that field of disaster. While engaged in this work, Carnegie 
became convinced that the ancient wooden bridges must be replaced 
by iron and steel structures, and after the war he organized the 
Keystone Bridge Company. After a trip to Europe, in 1868, he in¬ 
troduced the Bessemer process into the United States, and laid the 
plans through which the Carnegie Company came into control of 
productive steel properties valued at more than one hun 
dred millions of dollars. 

Mr. Carnegie’s erection of an armor plate manufac¬ 
tory at Homestead made the modern navy of the United 
States possible. In projecting this enterprise, he desired 
that every workman should share in the created values 
and profits. The pay system was based on the market 
price of the product, and each workman was an interested 
partner in the success of the firm. The Carnegie Steel 
works can produce two hundred thousand tons of pig iron 
and two hundred thousand tons of steel ingots per month. 

More than thirty-five thousand men are employed, whose monthly 
pay-roll aggregates one million six hundred thousand dollars. 

In administering his vast wealth for the good of the com¬ 



munity, Mr. Carnegie determined that public libraries afforded 
broader and more definite value to the people than any other bene¬ 
faction. He launched his plan in Pittsburg, where his active life 
was passed, by embodying a library, museum, music hall, and art 
gallery in one great building. Since then he has planted libraries 
in all parts of the United States, his donation for each being usually 
fifty thousand dollars. This is for the erection of a building, and 
the purchase of books, while the city or town furnishes the site and 


io6 


ANDREW CARNEGIE 


provides a yearly sum sufficient for its maintenance. Scores of these 
public benefactions have already been made, and the number is fre¬ 
quently augmented by new gifts. 

As an author, Mr. Carnegie has been successful. Some of his 
writings are <( Round the World,” <( Our Coaching Trips,” (< An Amer¬ 
ican Four-in-Hand in Great Britain” and <( Triumphant Democracy; 
or Fifty Years March of the Republic.” The latter is the most 
important work of his life. Eight editions of it have been pub¬ 
lished and it has been translated into many languages. <( How to 
Get Rich ® has also been widely read with much interest. In solving 
this problem, Mr. Carnegie says that ability and industry are the 
prime requisites, and he discards the necessity of a college education. 
This book has been severely criticized by some of the colleges, but 
its main points have not been refuted. 

Mr. Carnegie acquired his great wealth by honest and legitimate 
business methods. He had the sagacity to recognize an opportunity, 
and the shrewdness and ability to grasp it and make the most of it. 
Whatever may be our laws and our social and economic conditions, 
there will be those who accumulate riches and those who do not. 
Thus it ever has been, since the davs of Abraham, and thus it ever 
will be. Those who, like Mr. Carnegie, bestow so generously • of 
their <( surplus wealth ” to promote enterprises to better mankind, 
morally, mentally and physically, do much to lessen the prejudice 
and antipathy that exist in the popular mind, toward those who 
seem to have more than a just proportion of “this world’s goods.” 


107 


SALMON PORTLAND CHASE 


He had to do with billions of dollars. 


W hen President Lincoln formed his Cabinet, in the midst of the 
secession movement caused by his election, there were two 
members of it who at that time stood so much higher in pub¬ 
lic knowledge and estimation than himself, that nothing but grave 
considerations could have warranted him in asking them to take 
office under him, or could have induced them to accept. Those 
two were Seward and Chase. The considerations that brought them 
in were indeed grave, both in a political and in a national sense. 
A new party, formed from diverse elements, and possessed 
thus far of more fervor than unity, had become charged 
with the responsibilities of administration; a serious charge 
at any time, but immeasurably serious in the presence of 
a dissolving nation. 

Salmon Portland Chase was born in New Hamp¬ 
shire, in 1808, of a family in good position and cir¬ 
cumstances. He was well educated, and before his 
eighteenth year had graduated with distinction at 
Dartmouth College. He went to Washington, where 
he tried the keeping of a classical school, and studied 
law under the distinguished William Wirt, who had been Attorney- 
general in the Cabinet of Monroe, and was one of the leaders at the 
bar of the Federal Supreme Court. Through the influence of a near 
relative, who was a member of the United States Senate, he sought 
to obtain a clerkship in the Treasury Department, but the senator 
declined to share in spoiling his future by aiding him to a position 
that would the more unfit him for the real work of life the longer 
he should hold it, and from which he would probably be removed 
on some change of administration, when too late to repair the mis¬ 
chief caused by office-holding enervation and loss of time. <( Go 
West, young man,” said this precursor of Horace Greeley, and the 
young man went to Ohio. There he made his standing good as a 
lawyer by a compilation of the statutes of the state, a work for 
which his scholarship well fitted him; while his uncompromising 
hostility to slavery, and the frequency of his voluntary appearance 
as advocate for fugitive slaves whose return to bondage was sought 
or opposed in the courts, early made him prominent in politics. 




io8 


SALMON PORTLAND CHASE 


Chase was a member of an antislavery convention held at Colum¬ 
bus in 1841, and in 1843 he was a delegate to the national convention 
of the Liberty party at Buffalo, which nominated James G. Birney 
for the presidency, and which, by casting nearly sixteen thousand 
votes in New York, threw the electoral vote of that state to Polk 
and so defeated Clay. The rage of the Whigs at this surprising 
upset of their party and its idol was extreme, and nowhere was it 
more extremely expressed than by Mr. Greeley in the <( Tribune, * 
which charged the Liberty party with being allies of the Democracy, 
and drove many of them into fellowship with that party in state 
affairs, Chase among them. Birney had taken eight thousand votes 
away from Clay in Ohio, but left him enough to get the electoral 
vote of the state. The platform of the Liberty convention, in the 
framing of which Chase had been influential, was very radical for 
those days, and yet it commanded upward of sixty-two thousand 
votes. It shows where Chase stood, eighteen years before he became 
a Cabinet minister, and when he was a comparatively young zealot 
of thirty-five years. It declared (< human brotherhood 0 to be the 
cardinal principle of Democracy and of pure Christianity; intimated 
that the Democratic and Whig parties were both run by <( interested 
politicians 0 ; denounced slavery as (< the grossest and most revolting 
manifestation of despotism, 0 and the existing parties for their sub¬ 
serviency to the slavery interest; gave the Federal Constitution a 
severe mauling for permitting three-fifths of the slaves to be counted 
in the congressional representation of the slave states, and for author¬ 
izing the surrender of fugitive slaves; and announced the purpose 
of the Liberty party to carry the principle of equality to its ultimate 
conclusion in all legal and political relations, after slavery had been 
everywhere suppressed. There was a good deal of religion in the 
platform, and this, if not due to Chase, was characteristic of him; 
for if not theological, he was always ecclesiastical, and in aspect and 
temperament was cut out originally for a Protestant Episcopal bishop, 
like his distinguished uncle. 

Chase was a member of the national Liberty party convention 
which met at New York, in 1847, and nominated John P. Hale, of 
New Hampshire, for President, with a vice-presidential candidate 
from Ohio, as before. Later, when a rebellious element of the De¬ 
mocracy had nominated Van Buren against Cass, the regular Demo¬ 
cratic nominee, Hale withdrew, virtually in favor of Van Buren, 
who was at least a sentimental Abolitionist, and had a considerable 
Democratic following. But the Ohio Abolitionists, Chase among them, 
were dissatisfied with the situation and agitated for a new conven¬ 
tion, which was held at Buffalo, in August, 1848, and nominated Van 


SALMON PORTLAND CHASE 


I 09 

Buren and Charles Francis Adams. The platform, in which the able 
hand and pen of Chase were busy, was more practical than before, 
but it was still religious and still radical. It declared the convention 
to be (< a union of freemen for the sake of freedom ®; had something 
to say about <( free labor ®; inscribed on its banner the motto of 
<( Free Soil, Free Speech, Free Labor and Free Men, 8 and announced 
the determination to (( fight on and fight ever w until the day of tri¬ 
umph. Van Buren, who privately laughed at the platform and de¬ 
rided the political principles it set forth, accepted the nomination and 
so defeated Cass, chief of Northern doughfaces, and brought Zachary 
Taylor to the presidency. 

Chase, the ingrained Abolitionist, — who sincerely believed, as few 
active politicians believed, in fighting slavery from the bottom up 
within the Constitution, and where the Constitution failed, fighting it 
in the name of morality and religion,— was now the foremost man 
in Ohio. In 1849 he was sent to the United States Senate; in 1855 
he was elected governor — a far greater honor then than a senator- 
ship— and in 1857 was reelected by a majority still regarded as ex¬ 
traordinary in the political annals of the state. The Democrats were 
strong in Ohio, but they were Free-soil Democrats and supporters of 
Chase, and as a Free-soil Democrat he had figured in actual politics 
since his election to the Senate. Thus, though he had joined the 
new Republican party when the opponents of slavery had finally con¬ 
centrated, and though, when Seward had been set aside in 1856 as 
still a Whig and not a Republican, Chase was the proper candidate 
of the party, he, also, was put aside in favor of Fremont, who had 
no discoverable politics, because it was feared that the former Whigs 
of Ohio would vote against Chase. 

At the time Lincoln was elected, Chase was distinctively out for 
the presidency. The tide was then running against slavery, and 
neither Lincoln nor Seward could approach Chase’s record for early, 
sincere, moral and religious opposition to the Southern institution. 
Lincoln and Seward had both looked to the final extinction of slav¬ 
ery, but sought only to put it where the public mind would rest in 
the assurance of its ultimate disappearance. Chase had been fight¬ 
ing slavery, hand to hand, for some thirty years, when he entered 
the Cabinet of Lincoln, and if he indulged the hope that it was his 
destiny to give the finishing stroke to it from the White House, that 
hope was not unpardonable. That he entered Lincoln’s Cabinet 
from high motives is certain, and it was more important to Lincoln 
than to himself that he should be a member of the first Republican 
administration. Chase had not desired to be one of Lincoln’s Cabi¬ 
net, but Lincoln was anxious that he should, fearing to leave him 


1 I o 


SALMON PORTLAND CHASE 


outside. Thus Chase entered the Cabinet in a state of independence, 
and that state he maintained. He had not believed that Lincoln 
should have a first term, nor did he ever come to believe that Lin¬ 
coln should have a second term. There was no misunderstanding, at 
any time, about the position and the purpose of Chase. He satisfied 
a party exigency by entering the Cabinet, and he meant that his 
place in the Cabinet should forward his legitimate aspiration that 
the one original, pure and fighting Abolitionist should become the 
Abolition President. He could not foresee, at the time he closed 
with Lincoln’s offer, that a great war would mark the period of his 
Cabinet service, and so make it certain that some popular general 
would stride to the White House, brushing statesmen and political 
leaders aside, as Jackson and Harrison and Taylor had already done, 
and as successors to them and to Grant will doubtless do hereafter. 

When Chase took office at the head of the Treasury Department, 
the national expenditure was about eighty million dollars a year; it 
rose to more than five hundred millions in his first year, and to one 
thousand three hundred millions in his last. He took over the man¬ 
agement of a public debt of eighty millions, and transferred to his 
successor a debt of one thousand seven hundred millions. His finan¬ 
cial projects did not carry with Congress, whose projects were better 
than his own, though their performance, as must always be the case 
when a numerous legislature turns financier, was far below the original 
conception. One of Chase’s early projects for a war revenue was a 
direct tax; but as, under the Constitution, a direct tax must be levied, 
not according to wealth, but by population, any such tax large enough 
to produce a substantial war revenue would fall crushingly upon poor 
states and lightly upon rich ones, Congress refused to entertain it. 
While he favored the issue of treasury notes — which is nothing more 
than a forced loan, compelling public creditors to accept a promise to 
pay instead of payment — he properly opposed the making of stich 
notes a legal tender for the payment of antecedent private debts, as 
a violation of the contract made at the time the debt w r as incurred. 
But he yielded to the desire of Congress, saying that the legal tender 
notes would increase the loanable capital of the country, and so pro¬ 
vide the government with the means of carrying on the war. But as 
these notes were issued only in payment of current expenses, they 
represented but a conversion and not an increase of capital. In the 
end, the war was carried on by loans, which enormously increased its 
expenses, and as loans flagged the great department under Chase be¬ 
came paralyzed, till an Ohio banker was tempted, by a large com¬ 
mission, to introduce financial sense to the financial business of the 
government. 


SALMON PORTLAND CHASE 


III 


Early in 1864, Grant came legitimately to the head of military 
affairs, without political connections and indebted to nobody, and 
thenceforward the conduct of the war passed from the White House 
and its cabinet room to the headquarters of the general-in-chief in 
the field. Lincoln accepted the new situation amiably, never knowing 
more of the plans and purposes of the actual dictator than the private 
in the ranks, and the rest of the administration did not count. Lin¬ 
coln was openly yet modestly a candidate for reelection; but the con¬ 
duct of the war from Washington, until the coming of Grant, had 
borne more severely on the North than on the South, and the Rev. 
Dr. Cheever, Lucius Robinson and John Cochrane, of New York; 
Wendell Phillips, of Massachusetts; B. Gratz Brown, of Missouri; and 
Frederick Douglass, of the United States at large, were but the 
bolder spirits of thousands of Republicans who desired a bolder 
President, that would be easier on the loyal states and harder on 
the disloyal ones. They desired that Congress, and not Lincoln, 
should prescribe the terms of readmission for the seceded 
states, and when they formulated their demands, one 
of them was that the lands of the disloyal should 
be confiscated and distributed to the Union sol¬ 
diers and sailors. Most of the leaders of the 
radical movement were personal friends of Chase, 
and his course in the administration entitled him 
to their support; but again, as in 1856, they 
passed him over for Fremont, thus giving point to the 
gibe that Chase for the presidency had been more talked 
about, and less thought about, than any other man in public life. 

The radical movement against Lincoln came to nothing, for the 
people in mass were with him, and Chase, undermined in the admin¬ 
istration and the party, very properly resigned, having an immense 
respect for himself and not too much for those with whom he had 
been associated. After his reelection, Lincoln very generously rec¬ 
ognized Chase’s early services to the cause of freedom by offering 
him the place of chief-justice, which the beloved Stanton desired but 
could not have because Lincoln declared that he must have Stanton 
in his second administration. 

As chief-justice. Chase presided at the impeachment trial of Presi¬ 
dent Johnson, and presided well. In 1868 he was the favorite of 
the Southern delegations to the Democratic convention that nomi¬ 
nated Horatio Seymour, of New York, but Pendleton was the choice 
of the Ohio delegates. On February 7, 1870, he delivered the opinion 
of the majority of the Supreme Court, consisting of Justices Nelson, 
Grier, Clifford and Field, with himself, against the validity of the 




I I 2 


SALMON PORTLAND CHASE 


legal tender provision of the treasury note legislation; Justices Mil¬ 
ler, Swayne and Davis dissenting. After this, Justices Strong and 
Bradley, whose soundness on the legal tender issue had been pre¬ 
viously ascertained, were added to the court; the question of the legal 
tender was reopened on a new case, and the former decision was 
reversed. This time, Chase delivered the dissenting opinion of him¬ 
self, Clifford, Field and Nelson. That the court had been used for 
political purposes, as in the Dred Scott decision of 1857, is certain, 
and in the later, as in the earlier, decision, there was much ill feeling 
among the judges, and the court was again deservedly lowered in 
the public confidence and esteem. At the same time, it is but fair 
to say that the question was much more fully presented at the later 
hearing, though it is hard for the lay mind to believe that a consti¬ 
tutional power to <( coin money® includes the power to compel a 
creditor to accept from his debtor a mere promise to pay money, 
which Congress might never see fit to redeem. We owe to the later 
decision, procured by the addition of two “safe® judges, the green¬ 
back and free-silver crazes, which cost the country hundreds of mil¬ 
lions of dollars. The incident is one of many going to show that 
the safety, honor and perpetuity of the republic rest, after all, upon 
the intelligence and integrity of the masses of its people, and not 
upon its rulers, when left to themselves. 

Chase had been stricken with apoplexy before the legal tender 
decision was reversed, and the intervening agitation had left him the 
worse. He died at New York, May 7, 1873, one of many whose high 
qualities had been sacrificed to a consuming desire for the presidency. 


HENRY CLAY 



A great Kentuckian who just failed of the presidency. 

« j r ARRY of the West, » though far from the greatest, is, perhaps, 
j~| the most interesting character in our political history. He 
was the first and the foremost of our magnetic statesmen — 
that is, of public men whose political importance is vastly increased 
by their personal fascination. He was not the first, but among the 
greatest, of what are now called “jingo statesmen w — public 
men who maintain a hectoring attitude toward foreign na- jjf 
tions or governments, attach a label inscribed “ patriotism w 
to their quarrelsome utterances and dare anybody to dif¬ 
fer with them on pain of being branded as a traitor 
or a poltroon. In these days of vigorous journal- J 
ism and the self-written newspaper interview, the 
<( jingo w tribe has so increased in Europe and 
America that its members largely drown each 
other’s noise and so give the quieter majority a 
chance of existence. But in the days when Clay Y 

appeared as a “jingo” or a <( war hawk,” a$ the phrase then ran, 
there was no such deafening competition, and the combination of 
jingoism and magnetism in the young Lochinvar, lately come out of 
the West, made him irresistible. 

Clay’s acts of statesmanship were compromises that settled noth¬ 
ing, and when the days of settlement came, with all their accumu¬ 
lated arrears, the compromises fell into discredit. Yet they were all 
successful in their one object of putting off an evil day, in hope 
that the time gained might become the means of putting it off forever. 
The Missouri Compromise, in Monroe’s first administration — under 
which Missouri was admitted as a slave state, with the prohibition 
of slavery in all other territory north of a line substantially that of 
her southern boundary — quieted a dangerous sectional quarrel, and 
gave the Union twenty years in which to grow stronger. The com¬ 
promise tariff of 1833, which put an end to the nullification move¬ 
ment begun by South Carolina, saved the Union in the only way by 
which it could then have been saved. South Carolina was in deadly 
earnest, and, despite Jackson’s unofficial trumpetings, it is improbable 
that he could then have rallied a united North against a united 



HENRY CLAY 


114 

South. The slavery compromise of 1850 was less successful than its 
predecessors, because its fugitive slave law, violently executed in 
New England towns and streets, proved too much for the Puritan 
stomach. Yet it made California a free state, and put an end to the 
efforts to divide Texas, so as to increase the slavery representation 
in the Senate; and though it gave Utah and New Mexico to slavery 
at the option of their people, nature had already taken care that they 
should not so choose. Furthermore, it did away with the offensive 
sight of negroes for sale, in gangs or on the auction block, in the 
streets of the national capital. Clay had been originally an anti¬ 
slavery man, and though he grew tolerant of the great (< institution w 
of the South, he never loved it. All his concessions to it were for 
the safety of the Union, to which he was sincerely attached, and the 
preservation of which he put before all other interests. 

Even Clay’s jingoism was not meant, as in these days it is too 
often meant, to tickle the ear of the mob, that the perfervid patriot 
may profit by the sensation. He believed that the Western Continent 
should be utterly free of political connection with Europe, and given 
up to republics organized on democratic principles, from Hudson Bay 
to Patagonia. He wished his own country to be the first in the 
world, and looked complacently upon the prospect of war upon war, 
if necessary to make her such. He favored what would have been 
a big army and navy for those days, much biting of the thumb at 
England and Spain, a stiffly protective tariff in behalf of the man¬ 
ufacturing industries, and lavish expenditure on a national system 
of roads and canals. His politics, had they been fully carried out, 
would have borne roughly on New England, whose interests were 
chiefly in foreign trade, and upon the South, where agriculture pre¬ 
dominated. But they were popular in the West, which then consisted 
of Pennsylvania and Virginia beyond the Alleghanies, and Ohio, Ken¬ 
tucky, Indiana, Illinois and Missouri. The West would have reaped 
the benefits of the roads and canals; its people were the immediate 
sufferers from those Indian raids alleged to be fostered in Canada; 
and the East and South would have been saddled with the cost of 
the exuberant foreign and domestic politics. 

Clay had considerable success with his high tariff and internal im¬ 
provement projects, and usually under adverse political conditions. 
This success was due to his influence over the masses, whose enthusi¬ 
asm for Clay dragooned hostile or indifferent Presidents and Con¬ 
gresses into support of his measures. In Clay, more than in any 
other American politician, the man was everything, the principle 
nothing. His bright, handsome face, tall and animated figure, grace¬ 
ful and engaging manner, captivating voice and unlimited command 


HENRY CLAY 


■'5 

of words that charmed and stirred the hearer, made him the foremost 
of (< spellbinders.® As lately, in the north of England, the political 
creed of the populace was embraced in the name of Gladstone, so in 
our West the person of Clay was all the politics that tens of thou¬ 
sands knew or cared to know. The intense popular devotion to him 
and his fortunes surpassed anything else in our political history. Only 
in newspapers do strong men weep in these days, but strong men 
did weep over Clay’s presidential misfortunes. 

The subject of all this unrestrained and unselfish devotion was 
not unworthy of it. The beloved <( Harry® had his faults, but he 
had also what the French call (< a good heart.” No one with a good 
heart can possibly be false, nor was Clay false. He was usually showy, 
and he was sometimes weak, but he was always true. What he ad¬ 
vocated he believed, and his transparent sincerity was a great element 
of his strength. Had he been merely a demagogue, his abounding 
popularity would have shown our political fabric to be rotten, but 
such a disquieting conclusion may not be drawn from his example. 
Personally, he was a man of refinement and fond of cultivated society, 
but the poor and the untutored always had access to him. Like 
Lincoln, he understood and sympathized with the common people, and 
in his intercourse there was no condescension, because his feeling 
toward them was real and spontaneous. He was compassionate and 
impulsive, and for the friendless and deserving to gain his ear was 
to win his heart. In his time and by his class the public was served 
at whatever cost of personal interest or private fortune. The prizes 
of politics were strictly prizes of honor — governorships, seats in 
the Cabinet, the House of Representatives or the Senate, and, above 
all, the Presidency. In those days a statesman might become poor 
in the public service, as so many actually did,— but rich, never. 
Like Hamilton, he might scatter plenty o’er a smiling land, and 
then have to return to private life because his own means were 
exhausted. This is not to say that public life in the present day 
fails to call for and receive sacrifices of private interest, but in for¬ 
mer days, a public career led so strictly to public honors only, that 
the professional and business advantages now open to the public 
man of distinction had no existence. Clay’s public career could look 
only to the presidency as its crown, and, for that he hungered. He 
was right in looking to it and justifiable in hungering for it, but it 
was a public misfortune in his case, as in so many others since his 
time, that in the pursuit of the presidency he lost so much of inter¬ 
mediate usefulness. 

Clay was born in Virginia, in 1777, the son of a Baptist minister, 
rich in other things than the world’s goods. Fatherless at the age 


HENRY CLAY 


I 16 



of five, he early began work as a farmer’s boy, but the interest he 
personally inspired, together with respect for his late father’s call¬ 
ing, procured him a petty clerkship in the chancery court at Rich¬ 
mond, in his fifteenth year. At nineteen he began the study of law, 
and a year later was admitted to the bar under the easy condi¬ 
tions then prevailing. Kentucky was the “Wild West® of Virginia, 

and there Clay went, taking up his residence at 
Lexington, which became his lifelong home. 
As a lawyer, he was neither learned nor pro¬ 
found, but he was eloquent, and nothing told 
like his eloquence upon a jury of frontiers¬ 
men. Eloquence brought him professional 
success and, of course, carried him into poli¬ 
tics. At twenty-six he was in the legislature, 
and gained such prominence that three years 
later he was sent to Washington for a few 
months to fill a vacancy in the national Senate. 
The next year he was back in the legislature, and in 1808, the next 
succeeding year, he was elected Speaker of the Kentucky House of 
Representatives. A duel, growing out of a debate with a fellow- 
member, in which both were wounded, completed his popularity with 
the party to which he belonged, and thenceforward he was the fore¬ 
most statesman in Kentucky. 

The congressional election of 1810 turned on the question of war 
with England, or continued submission to her exactions upon Amer¬ 
ican commerce. Kentucky was for war, from the double motive of 
having it out with the Indian tribes in alliance with England, and 
of a conquest of Canada, which seemed easy while British hands 
were tied by the struggle with Napoleon — so easy that Clay prom¬ 
ised that Kentucky would annex Canada single-handed. He went 
to Congress from the Lexington district, and, a prominent leader of 
the war faction, though a new member, was made Speaker of the 
House of Representatives, in November, 1811. President Madison 
was much averse to war, and afraid of its consequences. He was 
making some progress by diplomacy, and Monroe, his Secretary of 
State, a French partisan and hostile to England, was hopeful of a 
peaceful adjustment. But .the antisubmissionists had come for war, 
and meant to have it. They were led by a triumvirate composed of 
Clay, Calhoun, of South Carolina, and Crawford, of Georgia. When 
the war faction had measured its strength in Congress, the triumvirate 
frankly told Madison that he must come over to it, or stand aside as 
a candidate for a second term and let the approaching nomination go 
to DeWitt Clinton, who had already made his agreement with the 




HENRY CLAY 


I 17 

war leaders. Madison yielded and got his renomination, against the 
revolt of Clinton, whom the Federalists took as their candidate, 
hoping to split the Republican party. 

In pursuance of his bargain, Madison sent two special messages 
to Congress, upon the last of which war was declared on June 18, 
1812. Clay certainly did his best to give success to the war of which 
he had been the chief promoter, but the war was sectional, and 
therefore not popular; money and men could not be had for its en¬ 
ergetic prosecution, and the fall of Napoleon upset the calculations 
on which the war had been founded. Discontent and almost open 
rebellion were rife in the country, and especially in New England, 
which had prospered under the Jay Treaty, concluded in the presi¬ 
dency of Washington, and a renewal of which had been rejected by 
Jefferson and Madison. Corruption, jobbery and inefficiency were 
rampant in the administration, and when Congress refused to author¬ 
ize conscription for the army and impressment for the navy, Madison 
was at the end of his resources. On an offer of mediation by the 
Russian emperor, which the British government promptly declined, 
peace commissioners had already been sent abroad, Clay unwillingly 
among them, and they were now informed that they must make 
peace on the best terms they could get. Owing to Clay, they got 
better terms than they had expected. The war had been made 
against the right of search of American vessels and the impressment 
of American seamen. Clay withdrew from his demand that those 
claims should be surrendered in the treaty, and the British commis¬ 
sioners gave up their demand for the creation of an Indian country 
as a buffer between the United States and Canada, and for the Brit¬ 
ish right of navigation of the Mississippi as an international stream. 
Clay never could have become the idolized w Harry of the West® if 
these demands had gone into the treaty, and as the alleged rights of 
search and impressment died a natural death, the compromise was 
all clear gain. Clay was popular in Europe during his sojourn there, 
both among public men and in society; for he was already the mag¬ 
netic statesman and man of the world. His political hostility to 
England neither then nor thereafter affected his personal relations, 
and he was all his life on terms of friendship with many English¬ 
men of distinction. 

On his return to the United States, Clay was again chosen Speaker, 
to which office he was in all six times elected. The Republican 
party, to which he belonged, was opposed to a national bank, but 
chartered one very soon after the end of the war, so as not to be 
without funds for the next war. The war and the blockade had 
been protective of manufacturing industry, which had expanded 


HENRY CLAY 


118 


during the enforced absence of foreign competition, and being now in 
distress cried out for continued exclusion of the foreign products. 
Clay brought forward his famous (< American system,® under which 
tariff duties were to be carried as high as revenue results would per¬ 
mit; the duties, within revenue limits, to be adjusted in the interest 
of protection, and the surplus revenue, after providing for the public 
debt and ordinary expenditure, to be applied to internal improve¬ 
ments— roads, canals, rivers and harbors of national importance. 

As the manufacturing was to be done in the East and the im¬ 
provements made in the West, there was nothing in the scheme for 
the South, which naturally was dissatisfied with it. Nevertheless, 
Clay’s eloquent pictures of the national grandeur and prosperity to 
flow from his system, overbore resistance. President Monroe was 
won over to moderate protection, and lightly protective duties were 
laid on cotton and woolen fabrics which had suffered most after the 
return of peace. Daniel Webster, a Federalist, denounced the so- 
called American system as one destined to make people dependent 
upon the government instead of upon themselves, to impede the 
natural and wholesome flow of industry, and to create classes of 
favored citizens at the expense of the unfavored. He predicted, and 
his prediction came quickly true, that whatever industry should once 
feel the stimulus of protection, would return again for more of the 
drug, and that business enterprise would be lost in dependence upon 
a tariff. 

The Federalist party had long been in a decline, but the Repub¬ 
lican party was also in process of rupture. Clay had become the 
leader of a strong faction which had broken away from Jefferson’s 
principles of state rights, strict construction of the Constitution, and 
a small and economical national government, and had 
taken up with Hamilton’s policy of liberal construc¬ 
tion, a strong government, a protective tariff and 
a national bank. The new party was finally 
launched under the name of National Repub¬ 
lican, afterward changed to Whig. Many Fed¬ 
eralists joined it and the Federalist party then 
disappeared. 

But before all this happened the slavery 
question sprang up suddenly, with an effect 
Mike a fire bell in the night,® as Jefferson wrote 
from his retirement at Monticello. The people of Missouri, which 
lay west of the Mississippi and mostly north of the line of the 
Ohio River, had adopted a slavery constitution, claiming that the 
prohibition of slavery north of the Ohio had no application beyond 



HENRY CLAY 


119 

the Mississippi. The House of Representatives would not admit 
Missouri as a slave state, and the Senate would not admit the free 
state of Maine unless Missouri should be admitted at the same time 
with slavery. The congressional and public discussion showed what 
an irreconcilable conflict there was ahead over the slavery question, 
but because it was irreconcilable, Clay sought to postpone it. He 
carried his compromise of admitting Missouri with slavery, but mak¬ 
ing the line of her southern boundary the northern limit of any 
future slave state. That effected, he went back to protective tariffs 
and internal improvements, which were taking up the most of his 
time. 

For the succession to Monroe, who was serving his second term, 
there was no real party contest, for the Federalist party had lost its 
national character and the Republican party was in rival or hostile 
factions. National conventions to nominate presidential candidates 
had not come into use, and the nomination by congressional caucus 
had fallen into disrepute. In one way and another, Clay, Crawford, 
Jackson and the younger Adams were put in nomination, and as 
neither had electoral votes enough, the election went to the House 
of Representatives. As the selection was confined to one of the 
three highest in the electoral vote, and Clay stood at the foot of the 
list, no votes in the House could be given for him, and his friends 
voted for Adams. This was natural, as Adams was in sympathy 
with Clay’s politics and the others were not. But Jackson and his 
friends were in a rage over the combination which defeated him, and 
when it became known that Clay was to become Secretary of State 
under Adams, and so be in what was then considered the line of the 
presidency, very hot words were used by Jackson and his partisans. 
John Randolph, who had aforetime given the name of (< Doughfaces M 
to those who had voted for Clay’s Missouri Compromise, denounced 
the Clay support of Adams as a corrupt bargain and intrigue. This 
caused a duel between Clay and Randolph, which resulted in no 
harm to either. 

The election of 1824 completed the rupture in Jefferson’s party. 
The Adams and Clay men became the Whigs, and the Crawford and 
Jackson men the Democrats. Crawford had suffered a stroke of 
paralysis, and his supporters went over to Jackson, who, as early as 
October, 1825, with Adams only seven months in office, publicly ac¬ 
cepted a nomination for 1828, and began an open and continuous 
war upon Adams and Clay. 

Clay’s four years as Secretary of State were uneventful and un¬ 
important. The tide was flowing with Jackson; and Adams, who had 
been a Federalist before going over to Jefferson, was a dead weight 


I 20 


HENRY CLAY 


on Clay, the real head of the new party. The latter’s original plan 
of a large and cooperative system of Federal roads and canals, had to 
be given up in favor of single and independent improvements, as 
Congress could be got to vote for them, and this led to a great 
increase of (< log-rolling M in legislation. A great convention of pro¬ 
tectionists at Harrisburg, in 1827, brought many Northern Democrats 
into line for a high tariff, and in 1828 a tariff bill was passed that 
gave the manufacturers all they asked. The Southern response to it 
was the revival of Jefferson’s Kentucky resolutions of 1798, declaring 
the Constitution a compact between the states and the Federal govern¬ 
ment, which reserved to each side the power to judge when the agree¬ 
ment was broken, and the manner of redress. In 1828 Clay, of course, 
had to promote the candidacy of Adams for a second term, and was 
so saved from the severe defeat that Jackson would have inflicted 
upon him if he had been the candidate. When Jackson became 
President in March, 1829, Clay went to the Senate and there led the 
Whig party. 

Jackson came to the presidency angry and vengeful, headstrong 
and passionate. He had a personal hatred for Clay, and detested his 
American system and his national bank. Politicians as skilled and 
adroit as Clay were behind him, and the Whig leader had before him 
for the next eight years the battle of his life. To quiet the nullifica¬ 
tion movement, he modified the extreme tariff of 1828, and when the 
nullification failed, he brought in the tariff of 1833, which was at 
once a surrender of protection and a surrender to nullification, 
though it saved the Union for the time being. He made a long 
struggle for the national bank, but Jackson destroyed it. He carried 
through the Senate a resolution of censure of Jackson’s conduct, but 
before Jackson ceased to be President the resolution was <( expunged 
by order of the Senate. w But he was successful in forcing his policy 
of internal improvements, and on these Jackson yielded by advice of 
his shrewd counselors. In 1832 Clay was the Whig candidate against 
Jackson’s reelection, but Jackson easily defeated him. After this de¬ 
feat, Clay’s party began to make gains, but in 1836 he was set aside 
in favor of General William Henry Harrison as a more available can¬ 
didate; yet Jackson succeeded in placing his own choice, Van Buren, 
in the presidency. 

Under Van Buren, the Democrats carried their independent treas¬ 
ury scheme, which Clay had long blocked. In 1840 the Whigs again 
set aside Clay, though with great reluctance, and this time they 
elected Harrison, with a rush and enthusiasm that surpassed Jack¬ 
son’s triumphs, and which were naturally bitter to Clay, to whom the 
fruits of victory rightfully belonged. A new tariff was passed in 1842, 


HENRY CLAY 


I 2 I 


but only to provide necessary revenue. The rest of the four years 
from 1841 to 1845 was spent in the Whig struggle with Tyler, who 
had succeeded Harrison on the latter’s death, a month after inaugu¬ 
ration, and who was really a Democrat. 

Clay’s last and best opportunity for the presidency was in 1844, 
when the Democrats were unpopular and factional, and his availa¬ 
bility to his own party was unquestioned. But the Southern Whigs, 
anxious about slavery, were desirous to commit him to the annexa¬ 
tion of Texas. He therefore wrote a letter in which he said he 
should be glad to see the annexation occur at some future time. 
His own opinion of the letter was that it would lose him no votes 
anywhere, and retain him the wavering votes in the South. But the 
abolition Whigs, preferring an open enemy to an uncandid friend, 
voted for the candidates of the Liberal party and so threw the elec¬ 
tion to the Democrats. Texas was thereupon annexed and war with 
Mexico followed, in which Clay’s son — his namesake and expected 
successor in politics — lost his life. 

In 1848 there was no thought of nominating Clay or any other 
Whig leader. General Taylor was in the field as an independent 
candidate, on his military popularity and without any politics. Neither 
party wished him, but the Whigs took him into their camp and he 
won the election for them. He made a good Whig President during 
the sixteen months that he lived. Before his death, Clay had brought 
forward his last compromise on the slavery question. It permitted 
the division of Texas in the improbable contingency 
that Texas would consent to be divided; it en¬ 
abled California to come into the Union as a 
free state, as its people desired; it retained 
slavery, but abolished the slave trade in the 
District of Columbia; and it sent the whole 
power of the government northward for the 
capture and restoration of fugitive slaves. 

After this, declining health kept Clay much 
in retirement and on June 29, 1852, he died. 

The party he had founded and led had just made its 
last nomination in the person of General Scott, who was defeated, 
and before the time came for another nomination the party had 
vanished, like its enchanting but unlucky founder and leader. 




122 


SAMUEL LANGHORNE CLEMENS 


IVe all laugh at the humor of <( Mark Twain 



T his famouis humorist was born at Florida, Missouri, in 1835. While 
he was a child, his father died and the family, left wholly with¬ 
out means, removed to Hannibal. At the age of thirteen, 
Samuel was apprenticed to a printer, in the office of the <( Hannibal 
Courier.” During his three years there, though but a boy, he 
already began to show indications of the genius that was in 
him, and many quaint bits of humor from his pen found 
their way into print. He learned much of printing and 
newspaper work, as they were carried on at that early day, 

- and at sixteen he struck out for himself. He deter¬ 
mined to try the East, and did irregular work for 
several years in New York and Philadelphia. He 
did not get on fast enough to satisfy his ambition, 
owing largely to a roving disposition that would not 
permit him to stay long in a place. He wanted to 
leap into success, and lacked patience for the plodding labor which 
was necessary to secure the reward. 

He foiLnd life in the East too tame for his restless spirit, which 
craved excitement and adventure. He went back to the West, and 
after working a short time in St. Louis, he returned to his home in 
Hannibal, with nothing buit experience to show for his years of absence. 
In 1857, just after he had crossed the threshold of manhood, he be¬ 
came a steamboat pilot on the Mississippi River. He spent three or 
four years <( at the wheel,” and in after years he gave to the world 
delightfully entertaining sketches of his experiences and observations 
during those palmy days of western steamboating. The Civil War 
closed the Mississippi to navigation for a time. Clemens enlisted in 
the Confederate army, but soon laid off his accouterments, with no 
great military record to his credit. 

In the latter part of 1861, Clemens went to the far West. He 
“came to anchor,” as he expresses it, at Virginia City, Nevada, where 
he became city editor of the <( Enterprise. ” It was in this paper that 
he first used the pseudonym (< Mark Twain,” suggested by his life 
on the Mississippi. The words are from the speech of a leadsman 
taking soundings. At all hours of the day or night could be heard 
the sonorous voice of the man engaged in <( heaving the lead” — 



SAMUEL LANGHORNE CLEMENS 


“Deep four!” “Quarter less three!” “Mark twain!” thus expressing 
in river parlance the depth of water in fathoms. “ Twain ” was always 
used for “two,” and “Mark twain” meant “by the mark,” that is, 
exactly, two fathoms. This was the origin of the unique name that 
will always live in American literature. 

Mr. Clemens now entered upon his new career of brilliant liter¬ 
ary success. The sketches by “ Mark Twain ” which appeared in the 
little Nevada newspaper, chiefly breezy and mirth-provoking descrip¬ 
tions of incidents of Western life, sprang at once into popularity and 
attracted widespread attention and comment. He soon had a call to 
San Francisco, where he went in 1865, and became a reporter on the 
“Morning Call.” Here he found a fine field for his talent and a 
large and appreciative clientage. He had occasional attacks of the 
“gold fever,” and two or three times engaged in mining, but he 
failed to “strike it rich,” and at length decided to stick to his pen. 
He made a trip to the Hawaiian Islands, from which he wrote a 
series of brilliant letters. 

In 1867 “Mark Twain” was a member of a large party that made 
a voyage to the Holy Land and other countries of the East. His 
narrative of that tour, published in a large volume under the title 
“The Innocents Abroad,” was immediately and in a most marked 
degree successful. It was his first pretentious work, and gave him at 
once a literary standing that he never could have attained by the 
fugitive sketches that had first brought him into notice. “ The Inno¬ 
cents Abroad ” was exceedingly popular and reached a sale rarely 
attained by a single volume. Mr. Clemens’s fame was now assured, 
and other works followed in rapid succession. Everything that came 
from his prolific pen was accorded a warm reception by the reading 
public. Among his well-known works are “ Roughing It,” “A Tramp 
Abroad,” “The Jumping Frog and Other Sketches,” “The Gilded 
Age” (written conjointly with Charles Dudley Warner), “Tom 
Sawyer,” “Huckleberry Finn,” “A Yankee at the Court of King 
Arthur,” “The Prince and the Pauper,” “ Pudd’nhead Wilson,” “Per¬ 
sonal Recollections of Joan of Arc,” “Following the Equator.” 

In 1870 Mr. Clemens married Miss Landon, of New York. For a 
time thereafter he was editor of the “Buffalo Express,” after which 
he went to Hartford, Connecticut, where he made his permanent home 
and pursued his literary work. He also went upon the lecture plat¬ 
form and proved a most successful entertainer. His books have been 
no less popular in Great Britain than in America. More than a 
million copies have been sold by subscription. In 1884 he established 
at New York the publishing house of C. L. Webster and Company, 
which issued General U. S. Grant’s “ Memoirs ” and enabled 


124 


SAMUEL LANGHORNE CLEMENS 


Mrs. Grant to receive royalties thereon amounting to the unprecedented 
sum of half a million dollars. Partly in consequence of its liberality 
to Mrs. Grant, the firm of Webster and Company became deeply 
involved and failed. The liabilities were large, but Mr. Clemens per¬ 
sonally assumed the whole amount. His own means had been lost in 
the business and he was past fifty, but he went to work with pen 
and tongue and in a few years had paid every dollar of the firm’s 
indebtedness, winning warm words of commendation from men in all 
parts of the world. Mr. Clemens is spending the evening of his life 
at his home in Hartford, surrounded by friends and everywhere ad¬ 
mired for his literary genius, and respected for his purity and nobility 
of character. 

America has produced no other writer whose humor was so long and 
so well sustained as that of (< Mark Twain. M There have been many 
humorists who made the people laugh for a time, but, as a rule, their 
power to entertain has not been enduring. Most of their writings 
were ephemeral and have been forgotten. The works of Mr. Clemens 
have been accorded a place among the classics, by the judgment of 
readers everywhere. His humor is of the purest kind; he never 
resorts to mere punning, nor to distortion of orthography, to tickle 
the fancv of the reader. Solelv bv intrinsic merit, for more than 
thirty years he has held his position as the first of American humor¬ 
ists. 


I 2 I 


GROVER CLEVELAND 


A President who put his country above his party. 


«r 



G rover Cleveland was three times a candidate for President. He 
was twice successful—in 1884 by defeating Blaine, and in 1892 
Harrison, by whom he, himself, had been beaten in 1888. Cleve¬ 
land came to the presidency at forty-seven, an age below the average 
of his predecessors. He brought to the White House a robust 
mentality, great capacity for hard work and a Jacksonian sim¬ 
plicity of manner. His jealous guardianship of the people’s 
-money while governor of New York and his previous record 
as the reform mayor of Buffalo, prepared the country for 
an honest and economical administration. Nor was it 
disappointed. Under him the civil service law was 
rigidly sustained and removals from office were, with 
few exceptions, made only for cause. The veto power 
was unsparingly used on legislation which he deemed 
extravagant or unwise, and when the Democratic 
party met in convention in 1888, he was unanimously 
renominated for a second term. His defeat by Gen¬ 
eral Harrison was largely the result of his retaining Republicans in 
office — a proceeding that the .politicians of his own party deeply 
resented — but was partly due to his unflinching recommendations to 
Congress for tariff reform legislation. 

Five important events made Cleveland’s administrations notable. 
These were his contest with the Senate over the right of removal 
from office; the passage of a tariff bill reducing duties on imports; 
the use of Federal troops to suppress the railway riots at Chicago; 
the order of Secretary Endicott returning Confederate battle-flags 
in the War Department to the states from whose regiments they had 
been captured; and his warlike recommendation to Congress for a 
commission to settle the boundary dispute between British Guiana 
and Venezuela This trenchant message caused a financial panic on 
both sides of the ocean for the moment, but after the first burst of 
excitement in both countries, the situation became quiet, and event¬ 
ually Lord Salisbury, the British premier, consented that the long¬ 
standing boundary dispute should be submitted to arbitration, and 
the incident then passed from the public mind. 



126 


GROVER CLEVELAND 


Cleveland’s rapid advance from the mayoralty of Buffalo to the 
governorship of New York and thence to the presidency, was due to 
a combination of fortuitous circumstances. He lived in a (< doubtful” 
state, as a state is politically called that gives its vote first to one 
party and then to another. It was to be expected, therefore, that 
when the Democratic national convention met in 1884 it would not 
be unmindful of New York’s thirty-six electoral votes and of the 
claims of Governor Cleveland, who had been elected a year previously 
by the largest majority ever given to a candidate for that office. In 
the middle of his term as governor, Cleveland became the choice of 
his party for President and was successful against James G. Blaine, 
in a campaign marked by unusual spirit on both sides. In his letter 
accepting the nomination, Mr. Cleveland took advanced ground for a 
reform of the civil service. He said: — 

(< The people pay the wages of the public employees, and they are en¬ 
titled to the fair and honest work which the money thus paid should 
command. It is the duty of those intrusted with the management of 
their affairs to see that such public service is forthcoming. The selection 
and retention of subordinates in government employment should depend 
upon their ascertained fitness and the value of their work, and they should 
be neither expected nor allowed to do questionable party service. The 
interests of the people will be better protected; the estimate of public 
labor and duty will be immensely improved; public employment will be 
open to all who can demonstrate their fitness to enter it; the unseemly 
scramble for place under the government, with the consequent importunity 
which embitters official life, will cease; and the public departments will 
not be filled with those who conceive it to be their first duty to aid the 
party to which they owe their places, instead of rendering patient and 
honest return to the people.” 

These sentiments, Mr. Cleveland put into practical effect. <( Offen¬ 
sive partisanship,” a phrase made famous by himself, was punished 
with dismissal from office, but Republican clerks with good records 
were unmolested and in many cases were promoted by their Demo¬ 
cratic superiors. An unexpected innovation was the rule, rigidly ad¬ 
hered to, of allowing Federal officeholders, such as district attorneys, 
collectors of customs, postmasters, and others, to serve out their terms 
of four years unless removed for cause. Disappointment, loud and 
deep, followed the actual observance of this announced policy. There 
was a great clamor for the old party doctrine, « To the victors belong 
the spoils,” but Mr. Cleveland declined to recede from the position 
he had taken. He promised that changes should be made as terms 
expired, or on proof of partisan perversion of public office, and with 
this the politicians were forced to be content. His policy resulted 


GROVER CLEVELAND 


12 7 



in no ultimate abridgment of Democratic privileges, for Cleveland’s 
successors have followed the same rule, and have retained Democratic 
presidential appointees until their terms of service ended, except 
when removed for cause. 

In May, 1895, some of the employees at the Pullman Car Works, 
Chicago, struck against a reduction of wages, declared by the com¬ 
pany to be imperative by reason of unprofitable business. A dead¬ 
lock ensued and the strikers applied to the American Railway Union, 
an organization of the lower grades of railway workers, for a sympa¬ 
thetic strike against the handling or hauling of Pullman cars as 
parts of railway trains. The application was granted, and 
railways were notified to drop the cars of the Pullman 
Company from their trains. This they declined to do, 
on the ground that the needs of their passenger 
traffic required the use of those cars, and that they 

T \ ® 

had contracts with the company which they could 
not suddenly terminate or break, without becoming 
subject to heavy damages to the company. Thereupon, 
the members of the Union refused to handle trains con¬ 
taining Pullman cars. This caused delay and inconven¬ 
ience for a few days, but the Pullman cars were oper¬ 
ated. The Union then proceeded to the next customary 
step of declaring that nobody should handle the trains that they 
would not handle. The president of the Union, from his headquar¬ 
ters at a Chicago hotel, assumed control of the entire railway system 
of the United States. To relieve the public inconvenience and anxiety 
and the embarrassment of the general government, caused by the 
stoppage of the mails, he offered to permit mail cars to be handled 
and forwarded. But the government had not the equipment or plant 
for operating post-office railways, and the companies would not un¬ 
dertake to run trains of mail cars only. 

The governor of Illinois was in sympathy with the sympathetic 
strike, and the local authorities, with no authority or force behind 
them, were either physically or politically afraid to act. For the 
time being, the municipal, state and national authorities at Chicago 
were held in abeyance, and all government, so far as railway opera¬ 
tions were concerned, was vested in the president of the American 
Railway Union. Passengers passing from one state to another were 
halted indefinitely, goods in transit from one state to another could 
not be forwarded, and, though the railways were constitutional post 
roads, the mails could not travel upon them. These are all matters 
placed by the Constitution under the control and regulation of the 
Federal government. 






GROVER CLEVELAND 


I 28 


After waiting a reasonable time for the local or state authority to 
act, the law officers of the general government applied to the Federal 
courts, and obtained injunctions against interference with interstate 
commerce or the mails. These were derided by the mobs that were 
doing the actual work of interference, and the United States mar¬ 
shal had not command of the necessary physical force to execute the 
judicial decrees. No such defiance of the Federal government had 
been seen since the days of the Whisky Insurrection, suppressed by 
President Washington. Following that precedent, President Cleveland 
issircd his proclamation, commanding the insurgents to disperse, and 
assembled a national military force large enough to give effect to 
the proclamation. Thereupon, the president of the American Railway 
Union gave way before the President of the American Federal Union, 
and peace and traffic were restored. Popular sentiment throughout 
the country emphatically manifested its approval of the Jacksonian 
vigor of Mr. Cleveland, but from that time, all the forces of disorder 
and demagogy, not weak in his own party, were openly against him, 
as they always were at heart. 

Cleveland’s ® Venezuelan Message,® as it is called, created a pro¬ 
found sensation, and brought the country closer to war with Great 
Britain than it had been since Captain Wilkes removed the Confed¬ 
erate commissioners, Mason and Slidell, from the British mail steamer 
<( Trent® That war did not result from such a provocation, was due 
to the good feeling between the British and American peoples, out¬ 
side of politics, and to the popular belief in England that President 
Cleveland meant nothing worse than a rude shaking of the slumber¬ 
ous British diplomacy, which had permitted the boundary question 
unjustly to drag for many years. The contention was of long stand¬ 
ing, and grew out of the alleged encroachments of the inhabi¬ 
tants of British Guiana upon Venezuelan soil and sovereignty. 
The disputed territory was rich in minerals, principally gold and 
silver, and Venezuela’s complaint was that the overflow into her 
territory was due to the existence of these deposits. Venezuela 
had repeatedly urged arbitration as a proper method of settle¬ 
ment, but the British attitude was expressed by the Ambas¬ 
sador at Washington, Sir Julian Pauncefote, who stated 
that his government was as firmly convinced of its 
sovereignty over the territory in dispute as over 
the English counties of Sussex and Kent. Vene¬ 
zuela having requested the good offices of the 
United States on repeated occasions, the American Am¬ 
bassador at London, Mr. Bayard, was instructed to urge the British 
government to accept arbitration. Great Britain repeatedly refused, 




GROVER CLEVELAND 


1 2 9 

and President Cleveland had made the dispute the subject of com¬ 
ment in two messages to Congress, but had advanced no suggestion 
as to the action this government should take. Convinced at last that 
Great Britain’s encroachments were a violation of the Monroe Doc¬ 
trine, President Cleveland, a little more than a year before his retire¬ 
ment from office, sent a special message to Congress, dealing with 
the Venezuelan question at length. His application of the Monroe 
Doctrine to the case in hand was admittedly novel, but he set it 
forth in broad and statesmanlike terms. The President asserted that 
the doctrine was strong and sound <( because its enforcement is im¬ 
portant to our peace and safety as a nation, and is essential to the 
integrity of our free institutions and the tranquil maintenance of our 
distinctive form of government. It was intended to apply to every 
stage of our national life and cannot become obsolete while our re¬ 
public endures. If the balance of power is justly a cause for jealous 
anxiety among the governments of the old world and a subject for 
absolute non-interference, none the less is an observance of the 
Monroe Doctrine of vital concern to our people and their government. 
Assuming, therefore, w he continued, (< that we may properly insist upon 
this doctrine without regard to ( the state of things in which we live/ 
or any changed conditions here or elsewhere, it is not apparent why 
its application may not be invoked in the present controversy. If a 
European power by an extension of its boundaries takes possession 
of the territory of one of our neighboring republics against its will 
and in derogation of its rights, it is difficult to see why to that 
extent such European power does not thereby attempt to extend its 
system of government to that portion of this continent which is thus 
taken. This is the precise action which President Monroe declared 
to be ( dangerous to our peace and safety/ and it can make no dif¬ 
ference whether the European system is extended by an advance of 
frontier or otherwise/’ 

The publication of the President’s message created a profound 
sensation, and talk of war with Great Britain was freely discussed 
for some days. Congress promptly made the appropriation, and the 
commission, which was to fix a boundary for Great Britain without 
her consent, began work. The British government, however, soon 
announced its willingness to arbitrate the dispute, a fact which Mr. 
Cleveland immediately announced to Congress, and through it to the 
nation. It may be said, in passing, that the court of arbitration, 
before which the dispute was brought, gave the Venezuelans scant 
comfort, for while admitting a part of their claim, it rejected the 
most of it, and established Great Britain in possession of about three- 
fourths of the disputed land. 
i—9 


i3° 


GROVER CLEVELAND 


The (< Confederate battle-flag order, w as it was called, resulted in 
sharp criticism of the President from every part of the country. By 
Republican politicians and newspapers he was severely condemned, 
and there were not lacking evidences of dissatisfaction by the inde¬ 
pendent press, which generally supported his administration. The or¬ 
der restored to former Confederate states certain flags captured in 
battle from their regiments. It provoked a storm of indignation 
from the old Union soldiers and Republicans, who denounced it as a 
cowardly surrender to the South and a bid for the popular favor of 
that section. The comments of Governor Foraker, of Ohio, and 
Governor Fairchild, of Wisconsin, were notably severe, and after a 
few days the order was rescinded. 

President Cleveland believed that the Democratic platform pledges 
should be something more than a vehicle to lift the party into power, 
and his influence was therefore exerted for tariff legislation. A pro¬ 
tective tariff had no place in his philosophy. A tariff for revenue 
was a fundamental Democratic principle, which in time had broad-- 
ened to include (< incidental w protection. But even this concession 
was viewed with disfavor by Democrats of the old school. When it 
was seen, in 1893, that the party controlled both branches of Con¬ 
gress and the Executive, it was decided to pass a tariff bill that should 
largely increase the free list, and reduce duties in many important 
schedules. Such a bill, known as the Wilson tariff bill, taking its 
name from the chairman of the Ways and- Means Committee, passed 
the House in 1894, after a week’s debate. One of the members of 
that committee was a young man from Nebraska, an ardent tariff re¬ 
former, named William J. Bryan, who, retiring from Congress at the 
next session, came into prominence as the Democratic candidate for 
President a year later. The bill was conservatively framed. It was 
far from being a free-trade measure, or satisfactory to the advocates 
of a true revenue tariff. High duties were retained on the leading 
articles of textile manufacture, metals, chemicals and other articles. 
An attempt was made by its framers to relieve raw materials of 
manufacture from duty and substitute simple duties, according to 
value, for those measured by the pound or square yard. In the Sen¬ 
ate, a little coterie of Democrats, headed by Mr. Gorman, of Maryland, 
revised the bill and restored duties to such an extent that Mr. Cleveland 
refused to approve it, and permitted it to become a law without his 
signature. It failed to provide a sufficiency of revenue, though this 
may have been due to hard times, and it was bitterly denounced by 
manufacturers, notwithstanding its strong protective features, and was 
by them held to have prolonged the industrial depression following 
the panic that had by several months preceded the passage of the bill. 


GROVER CLEVELAND 


I 31 

Impartial observers of national affairs do not admit that the tariff 
act of 1894 in any way aggravated the depression following the panic 
which, beginning with Cleveland's second administration, continued 
for four years. The real source of trouble was the vicious silver 
legislation passed during the Harrison administration, which com¬ 
mitted the government to the monthly purchase of four and one-half 
million ounces of the white metal. Prudent financiers became alarmed 
at the rapid increase of silver money and the fast declining gold re¬ 
serve in the Treasury. Bank reserves were increased, loans were 
restricted, and for a time a currency famine existed. Cleveland 
assembled Congress in extra session, and after a short delay the sil¬ 
ver purchase act was repealed. But‘the mischief had been done and 
the country was to pay the penalty for unwise financial legislation. 

The panic was the work of both parties in Congress, which, dur¬ 
ing President Harrison’s term, and to his sorrow, was deeply infected 
by the silver heresy. The Republican leaders excused themselves for 
the silver purchase act by pleading that it was a choice between that 
and the far worse evil of free silver coinage. It was the silver pur¬ 
chase act that at length brought on the panic; and the issues of gov¬ 
ernment bonds with which the Democratic Secretary of the Treasury 
replenished the gold reserve, were printed from plates that his Re¬ 
publican predecessor had ordered to be engraved for the very same 
purpose. 


FRANCES FOLSOM CLEVELAND 


A winsome lady of the White House. 


P resident Cleveland, when he first became President, was a bache¬ 
lor. He installed as <( Lady of the White House ® his sister, 
Miss Rose Cleveland, a woman of great intelligence and tact, 
and an author of ability. One of Mr. Cleveland’s most intimate 
friends in private life was Oscar Folsom, a lawyer of Buffalo. Before 
his death, caused by a carriage accident in 1875, Mr. Folsom re¬ 
quested Mr. Cleveland to be the legal guardian of his daughter^ 
Frances, then eleven years of age. Miss Folsom graduated 
with honor from the Buffalo High School, where she was 
noted for her brightness in study. She then entered 'Wells 
College, in the sophomore class. Her future husband was 
then governor of New York, and was elected President be¬ 
fore her graduation, on which occasion a gift of flowers was 
sent from the White House. 

Miss Folsom then went abroad to study, but her stay 
was brief. Her relations to her distinguished guardian 
had led to a mutual attachment that had ripened into 
an offer of marriage and its acceptance. In 1886 she re¬ 
turned from Europe, and in June of that year, near 
middle of Cleveland’s first term as President, she became 
his wife. The wedding took place in the White House, and was the 
first presidential marriage within its historic walls. Naturally, the 
event occasioned much pleasant comment, and President Cleveland 
and his winsome young bride were overwhelmed with compliments 
and congratulations. 

After a brief honeymoon, passed at Deer Park, Maryland, Air. 
and Mrs. Cleveland returned to Washington. The President took up 
the thread of official life, and his wife was duly installed as mistress 
of the W T hite House — the youngest woman who had ever been called 
to assume the duties of that exalted but exacting position. It would 
not have been a matter of wonder if so sudden an elevation, to the 
very pinnacle of the social structure, had turned the head of one who 
had but just passed the threshold of womanhood, and her friends 
were in no small degree apprehensive that she might not rise to the 
measure of the position. The result was a most happy surprise — 



the 



FRANCES FOLSOM CLEVELAND 


133 


the quick unfolding of a character in which were combined dignity, 
courtesy, grace, delicacy, kindness, tact, indeed all the graces that 
mark the true, womanly woman. She moved about in her new 
sphere as though she had been born into it, all unconscious of the 
fierce light that beat upon her while the social world was making 
up its verdict. When that verdict was pronounced, it was emphatic 
and enthusiastic in her favor. To the end of her six years in the 
White House, Mrs. Cleveland steadily grew in popularity and in pub¬ 
lic esteem, and she will long be remembered in Washington as one 
of the purest and highest types of American womanhood. When her 
youth and previous inexperience are considered, it may fairly be said 
that her career as (< First Lady of the Land w was an extraordinary 
one. 

In private life, Mrs. Cleveland, is a model wife, mother and woman, 
devoted to her husband and her children. Aside from her home 
duties, which are her first concern, she finds time for many good 
words and works. During the four years between Mr. Cleveland’s 
first and second presidential terms, he and Mrs. Cleveland lived in 
New York City. When they left the White House in March, 1897, 
they established their home at Princeton, New Jersey. 


x 34 


JAMES FENIMORE COOPER 


Whose pen pictured the Indians, the forest and tJie sea. 



T he eleventh child of a large Quaker family, James Fenimore 
Cooper was born at Burlington, New Jersey, in 1789. His 
mother, Elizabeth Fenimore, was of Swedish descent. The 
family owned large estates, and at the close of the Revolution his 
father came into possession of property near the head of the Susque¬ 
hanna. He removed his family in 1790 to the wilderness of 
New York, and made a settlement which he called 
Cooperstown. There he lived in primitive simplic¬ 
ity, in <( Otsego Hall,” the largest and most pre¬ 
tentious residence in that section. James Fenimore, 
at the time of the removal, was only thirteen months 
old. During his boyhood the great forests were his 
studies, and he was profoundly impressed by their 
pristine beauty and grandeur. There he met the In¬ 
dians, whose character later he was to portray. At thirteen 
years of age young Cooper entered Yale College, but was ex¬ 
pelled for defiance of its laws. While at New Haven, much more of 
his time was spent in exploring the forests and streams than at his 
books. 

James decided to enter the navy, and though his father was in 
Congress, and a leading Federalist, the son entered as a common 
sailor, where all previous standing was ignored. His cruises gave 
him material for his sea tales. As midshipman, he was detailed for 
duty on Lake Ontario, where the material for his graphic <( Path¬ 
finder ® was gathered. He married in 1S11, and resigned from the 
navy at the wish of his wife. She was of a Huguenot family who 
were upholders of the crown, and his father-in-law was a captain 
in the British service. 

The suggestion of Cooper’s first novel is thus explained: While 
reading to his wife a tale of English social life, he exclaimed, <( I 
believe I could write a better book, myself.” She urged him to try, 
and he wrote a few chapters and read them to her. She was so 
much pleased that she induced him to complete it, and when it was 
finished his friends insisted upon its publication. It was (< Precau¬ 
tion,” and, as it purported to be, non-American. It was a failure, 



JAMES FENIMORE COOPER 


1 35 


for he had written on a subject of which he was ignorant. It then 
occurred to him to sketch American character, taking as his ground¬ 
work the life of a spy who had been in the employ of John Jay 
during the Revolution. <( The Spy ” was successful and started 
Cooper on his road to fame. From this time he wrote almost inces¬ 
santly, and issued eleven books in ten years. His greatest successes 
were the (< Leather Stocking ” tales. The first of these was <( The 
Pioneer,” of which thirty-five hundred copies were sold on the day 
of issue. Cooper was already called <( The American Scott,” and if 
he had followed Scott, and not read the criticisms of his work, it 
would have been better, for some of his books were in answer to his 
critics, and provoked annoying controversies. 

(< The Pilot” was a new venture, a tale of the sea. Cooper had 
many imitators, but no peer, in his power to depict scenes of adven¬ 
ture. His (< Lionel Lincoln ” and <( The Last of the Mohicans ” came 
next. They were dramatized, and artists took his vivid pictures as 
subjects for paintings. The verdict was now proclaimed — America 
had produced a man of letters. A jealous spirit appeared, both in 
America and in England, and this irritated Cooper and made him 
intolerant of those who spoke or wrote to his disparagement. In 
1822 he went to New York and originated the “Bread and Cheese 
Club,” which included many famous men, and of which he was the 
genius and ruling spirit. 

A desire to travel led Cooper to seek a foreign post under the 
government, and he was appointed consul to Lyons, France. He 
soon resigned, however, and made a tour of Europe. Everywhere 
he was courteously and cordially received. He was especially charmed 
with Italy, and his wife said it was the only country she knew him 
to leave ®looking over his shoulder.” During his travels he was a 
constant writer and produced “The Prairie,” “The Red Rover” and 
“ Water Witch,” in quick succession. His works were published, as 
soon as written, in many different places in Europe. 

While abroad he began an unfortunate controversy, which im¬ 
paired both fortune and popularity, and continued throughout his 
life. Lafayette, who had recently returned from his triumphal tour 
in America, spoke in the French Chamber of Deputies concerning 
the American Government as being well and economically adminis¬ 
tered. Cooper replied with a pamphlet addressed to Lafayette, in 
which he sharply criticized the financial management of the United 
States. The American Legation challenged Cooper’s statements, and 
a heated discussion arose which resulted in making Cooper unpopu¬ 
lar in America. Abuse and criticism were heaped upon him and he 
defended himself vigorously. He had antagonized the English by 


136 


JAMES FENIMORE COOPER 


his aggressive patriotism and his allusions to their ignorance of 
America in a work called <( Notions of an American Picked up by a 
Traveling Bachelor ®; and he had also estranged many of his own 
countrymen by pointing out what he declared to be weak and crude 
in American character and morals. Embittered by the controversies 
he had provoked, he resolved to write no more, and upon his return 
he retired to his home at Cooperstown, where he lived in seclusion. 
The America to which he had returned was different from the 
America he had left seven years before. He had (< lost step,® for he 
was a eulogist of the past. Thurlow Weed, of New York, was par¬ 
ticularly severe on Mr. Cooper, and said of him, in 1841: (< He has 
disparaged the lakes of America, ridiculed its scenery, burlesqued 
American coin and satirized the American flag.® 

Cooper’s <( History of the United States,® though correct in the 
main, was received with hostility in both England and America. In 
his famous suit against the editor of the (( New York Commercial 
Advertiser® for libel, in a criticism of his work, Cooper triumphed 
and established his facts as he had stated them. He was sorely hurt 
by the actions of his countrymen, and wrote in one of his novels: 
(< One cannot easily hate the land which gave him birth, but injus¬ 
tice may lead him to cease to love it.® But in the midst of his con¬ 
troversial troubles, his home life was happy. He was past the prime 
of life when his most finished works, The Pathfinder® and <( The 
Deerslayer,® were produced. In his later books, anything pertaining 
to New England was satirized and caricatured so excessively that 
his reputation reached a still lower ebb, and some of his books 
were not even mentioned by newspapers of the time. During his 
declining years, Cooper wrote from necessity rather than from in¬ 
spiration. He left a bare competence and his family was forced to 
give up the old mansion. At his death, in 1851, a memorial meet¬ 
ing was held in New York, at which Daniel Webster presided and 
which was addressed by Bryant and Washington Irving. On his 
deathbed, Cooper enjoined his family to allow no account of his life 
to be prepared, and no authorized biography in detail has ever been 
published. 

Cooper’s errors have long since been forgotten and he has justly 
been accorded a place as one of America’s most brilliant novelists. 
He lacked beauty of style, his plots were meager and his characters 
only conventional; nevertheless, he triumphed by his supreme power 
of description and his vivid portrayal of scenes, making them instinct 
with life. His stories are moving panoramas. 


1 37 


PETER COOPER 


He made his fcl lawmen belter and happier. 

P eter Cooper, inventor, philanthropist and director of business 
enterprises, was one who believed that <( charity begins at home. ® 
His first benefaction was a gift of five hundred dollars to his 
father, earned by extra labor while apprenticed to a coachmaker. 
From this deed of filial devotion to his foundation of Cooper Insti¬ 
tute, his career is an example of honest work crowned by success. 

Cooper was born in New York City, in 1793, of pure Revolutionary 
stock, and made that city his home until his death, ninety-two years 
later. He began life as a boy assistant in his father’s hat shop, 
where he pulled the fur from rabbit skins and prepared it for felting. 
At seventeen years of age, he bound himself to a coachmaker, ^ 
and devoted his leisure hours to designing and carv¬ 
ing parts of the vehicles he was learning to build, 
lie entered business on his own account as a paint 
and glue dealer, and by his thirty-fifth year had 
amassed a fortune, as then estimated. 

His first important enterprise was the purchase 
of three thousand acres of land near Baltimore, Alary- 
land. In 1830, he founded there the famous Canton 
Iron Works. He sold this plant at a good profit and 
purchased a large foundry near Trenton, New Jersey, at a 
cost of two hundred and sixty thousand dollars. His business 
so increased that he employed two thousand five hundred workmen, 
and he was rated as the most important iron manufacturer of the 
period before the Civil War. 

Peter Cooper built and operated the railway from Baltimore to 
Ellicott City, Maryland. A queer little locomotive called the (< Tom 
Thumb ® moved the rolling stock, but this was one of the most im¬ 
portant experiments in American railway enterprises. As an in¬ 
ventor, Peter Cooper was among the first to apply compressed air as 
a power in mechanics. He designed a turning lathe, a machine for 
grinding iron plates, and a cylindrical appliance for puddling and 
reducing iron ore. In the scientific and commerical world, Air. 
Cooper was the stanch friend of Cyrus W. Field. He accepted the 
presidency of the North American Telegraph Company, and greatly 




PETER COOPER 


138 

assisted Mr. Field to triumph over the difficulties of laying the first 
Atlantic telegraph cable. 

In 1853 Mr. Cooper, when sixty years of age, conceived the proj¬ 
ect of establishing Cooper Institute — also called Cooper Union — to 
be <( forever devoted to the advancement of science and art in their 
application to the varied and useful purposes of life. w It required 
five years to complete it and its cost was three-quarters of a million 
dollars. It was deeded to a board of trustees, to furnish free schools 
for art and science, a free reading room and popular lectures, for 
which purpose he left an endowment of one hundred and fifty thou¬ 
sand dollars for the reading room and library, and the rent of the 
stores in the building for the support of the Institute. While devot¬ 
ing much of his life to carrying out this project, he still found time 
for public affairs. He was held in high and universal esteem for 
his noble qualities of heart and mind, and his utterances upon all 
questions found earnest hearers. He was nominated in 1876 for the 
presidency, by what was called the Greenback party, and received 
nearly one hundred thousand votes. He was active and vigorous, in 
body and mind, almost to the end of his long life, which spanned 
nearly a century. When he died, flags were placed at half mast 
from the Hudson to the Great Lakes, and from the St. Lawrence to 
the Alleghanies. 

When sixty years old, Mr. Cooper found that he had seven hun¬ 
dred thousand dollars above his capital invested. Upon the spot of 
his old grocery store, he built the Cooper Union as a free gift to 
the city. When its doors were opened, two thousand young people 
applied for admission; and since that time many thousands have 
been therein fitted for lives of usefulness. This monument, that will 
forever hold a grateful people his debtor, was built by the persever¬ 
ing energies of a man who, when a boy, worked for four years at 
twenty-five dollars a year, and even when a prosperous merchant, 
built the fires and did the work of clerk, bookkeeper, salesman and 
agent. 

The following was placed in the corner stone of Cooper Institute 
by its founder: — 

<( The great object that I desire to accomplish by the erection of this 
institution is to open the avenues of scientific knowledge to the youth of 
our city and country, and so unfold the volume of nature, that the young 
may see the beauties of creation, enjoy its blessings, and learn to love the 
Author from whom cometh every good and perfect gift.’* 


i39 


JEFFERSON DAVIS 


He staked all on the cause that was lost. 


J x is not likely that the people of the United States will ever agree 
as to the true position that history should accord to the life and 
character of Jefferson Davis, the President of the so-called “Con¬ 
federate States of America w during the four years that its government 
had an existence. Becatise he had been chosen to that position by 
the voice of the seceded states, the people of the North 
regarded him during the Civil War as the head and 
front of the rebellion, the incarnation of treason and 
disunion. They laid upon his shoulders the responsi¬ 
bility of the war, with all its direful results, its 
fearful sum of fire and blood and death and woe. 

This feeling was not unnatural, and yet it was 
unreasonable in its excess of bitterness and de¬ 
nunciation, for Mr. Davis was but one among hun¬ 
dreds and thousands, of the North and of the 
South — millions, if we include the people, whose J 
individual passions and prejudices made up the 
aggregate of public opinion — whose unyielding tenacity brought on 
the war. By the people of the South, in whose cause he sacrificed 
so much, Mr. Davis was considered their patriot leader, and his 
memory is tenderly and affectionately cherished around their hearth¬ 
stones, from the Potomac to the Rio Grande. Chance, so to speak, 
placed him at the head of the Confederate government; any one of 
a hundred others might have been selected. 



The impartial historian must and will concede to both North and 
South, in that mighty struggle, a transcendent consecration to prin¬ 
ciple, to the right as each saw it. Whatever may be the cause in 
which they are engaged, none can dare to discredit or belittle the 
sublime devotion of a people who, by hundreds of thousands, attest 
their willingness to make the supreme sacrifice of life by facing the 
deadly blast of battle. The question of the right of a state to sepa¬ 
rate itself from the Union of states was at issue. When argument 
had failed, an appeal to the sword was made. The decision was 
against the South, and it will stand for all time. Nothing can be 
stronger than the irresistible logic of events. But let him who is 




140 


JEFFERSON DAVIS 


disposed to pass harsh judgment upon those who were on the losing 
side, first assure himself that had he been born and reared in the 
South, he, too, would not have put on a suit of gray and followed 
the Confederate battle flags — charged with Pickett to the crest of 
Cemetery Ridge at Gettysburg, or with Hood into the fiery storm 
that swept the cotton field at Franklin. 

Jefferson Davis was a Kentuckian, born in 1808, and educated at 
Transylvania College in that state. A martial ambition was gratified 
by his appointment, when sixteen years of age, to a cadetship at West 
Point, from which he was graduated in 1828. One of his schoolmates, 
in the class next below, was Robert E. Lee. Seven years of dull 
routine duty in the army, in time of peace, with small chance for 
promotion and no prospect of winning fame at the cannon’s mouth, 
sufficed to cool, at least for the time, the military ardor of the young 
lieutenant, and in 1835 Davis resigned his commission. Both at West 
Point and in the army, he was conspicuous for his erect, soldierly 
figure, his manly bearing, his purity of character and his high sense 
of honor. He had been marked as one who would win distinction 
with his sword, should the opportunity be offered him, and much re¬ 
gret was felt when he retired from the service. 

The return of Mr. Davis to civil life was no doubt prompted, in 
some measure, by an event prominent in the political history of the 
country. In his earliest manhood he had given evidence of an active, 
vigorous mind, which formed very decided opinions on the questions 
of the day. Lieutenant Davis, true to his convictions, was an earnest 
and zealous advocate of the doctrine of state rights, which at this 
time was the cause of much agitation in the public mind. Linder the 
leadership of John C. Calhoun, South Carolina attempted to nullify cer¬ 
tain acts which had been passed by Congress, and President Andrew 
Jackson threatened to invoke the power of the army to compel obedi¬ 
ence to Federal authority. Impetuous (< Old Hickory w even went so 
far as to declare that he would hang Calhoun <( higher than Haman” 
if he should persist, in a practical application of the doctrine that the 
right of the state was paramount to that of the general government. 
Jefferson Davis was in full accord with Calhoun, the author of the 
nullification idea, and he determined that should the army be called 
on to coerce a state, he would immediately resign his commission 
rather than take unwilling part in such a procedure. 

After his resignation from the army, Mr. Davis fixed his home in 
Mississippi — to which state his father had removed from Kentucky 
some years before — and began life as a cotton planter. Incidentally, 
he took an active part in politics. He was a politician (< to the man¬ 
ner born, w and as his influence increased the door to preferment 


JEFFERSON DAVIS 


141 


opened wide before him. He developed a faculty for speaking, with 
marked ability as a debater and logician, and this brought him much 
before the public. In 1844 he was chosen one of the presidential 
electors from his state and cast his vote for Polk and Dallas. The 
next year, at the age of thirty-seven, he was elected to Congress. 
He immediately took a leading position among the orators and states¬ 
men of his time. He was powerful in debate, and was never known 
to quail before an antagonist. His voice was potent in upholding 
slavery, and in resisting the attempted encroachments of the growing 
Abolition sentiment at the North; in advocating the doctrine of state 
rights, which was the mainspring of his conduct during the closing 
years of his public career; and in resolute opposition to a protective 
tariff, which he believed to be vicious in principle, and, owing to 
sectional conditions, baleful in its effect upon the South, while the 
North, alone, was benefited. 

The declaration of war between the United States and Mexico 
quickened the pulses of Mr. Davis. He had strongly favored the 
war, and was quick to show his faith by his works. He raised a 
regiment of volunteer riflemen, and was commissioned its colonel. 
With the same zeal and energy that had characterized him in other 
spheres of action, he plunged into the war with the greatest enthu¬ 
siasm. Colonel Davis and his Mississippi riflemen became 
renowned for intrepid courage. The regiment was espe¬ 
cially conspicuous for its achievements at Monterey and 
Buena Vista. In the latter action, Colonel Davis was 
wholly disabled by a severe wound, from the effect of 
which he never fully recovered. 

The storv of Davis’s gallantry in battle had made 
him exceedingly popular at home, and when, after month? 
of suffering, he returned, pale, emaciated and barely 
able to move about with the aid of crutches, he was 
at once elected to the United States Senate, which 
body he entered in 1848. The combat between slavery g 
and freedom was deepening; no effort at compromise 
could allay the sectional bitterness that, with every 
passing year, became more intense. Senator Davis 
had in no wise changed his opinions, nor had he 
abated one jot or tittle of his fervent zeal in upholding them. He 
was naturally combative, and, as he had sought the place where the 
fire was hottest while at the head of his riflemen in Mexico, so on the 
floor of the Senate, where the slavery and the antislavery champions 
fronted each other in hostile debate, he was ever in the thickest of 
the fight and always true to his colors. Nothing could force him to 



142 


JEFFERSON DAVIS 


recede an inch from the position that he had taken many years before 
and had always maintained, in defense of slavery and the doctrine 
of state rights. 

In 1851 Mr. Davis resigned his seat in the Senate to become a can¬ 
didate for governor of Mississippi, but was defeated at the election. 
In the presidential campaign of the following year he was an active 
supporter of Franklin Pierce. After Pierce was elected, he called 
Davis into his Cabinet, as Secretary of War. In this position the ad¬ 
ministration of Mr. Davis was able and popular. He introduced im¬ 
provements in military tactics and in armaments, coast defenses and 
means of transportation. He retired from the Cabinet in 1857, on the 
accession of James Buchanan, and was at once reelected to the 
Senate. Here he again battled in behalf of the principles for which 
he had before contended. He opposed the w squatter sovereignty® 
doctrine of Stephen A. Douglas, and favored the extension westward 
to the Pacific, of the line to determine the northw'ard limit of slave 
territory, as it had been fixed by the <( Missouri Compromise,® in 1820. 

During the Buchanan administration the drift of events was steadily 
toward civil war. None would have been willing to admit the un¬ 
welcome truth, and the hope was sincere and universal that so dire 
a calamity might be averted. But the relations between the sections 
became more and more strained; there was no sign of yielding on 
either side, and some were wise enough to foresee that the issue 
could be settled only by an appeal to arms. Secession and disunion 
became common topics of debate, years before such action was taken 
by any state. Though unwavering in his devotion to the principle of 
state rights, Mr. Davis, to the last moment, advocated the preserva¬ 
tion of the Union. But he was a champion of slavery, and in i860, 
the year before the war, he introduced a series of resolutions, which 
the Senate adopted, declaring: — 

(< That the States have formally accepted the Constitution as independ¬ 
ent sovereigns, delegating to the general government a part of their power 
for the sake of security; that the intermeddling, on the part of any one 
of them, with the domestic institutions of another, is not only insulting, 
but dangerous to the domestic peace and tending to destroy the Union; 
that negro slavery is legal, and that neither Congress nor any territorial 
legislature has the right to interfere with it.® 

During the months immediately following the election of Mr. Lin¬ 
coln to the presidency, the doctrine of state rights was carried to its 
finality, and the <( Cotton states ® — South Carolina first, followed by 
the others in rapid succession — passed ordinances of secession. Mis¬ 
sissippi went out of the Union on the ninth of January, 1861. In 
his <( Rise and Fall of the Confederate Government,® Volume I., page 


JEFFERSON DAVIS 


143 


221, Mr. Davis expressly declares that M in the action which she then 
took, Mississippi certainly had no purpose to levy war against the 
United States or any of them.” As soon as Senator Davis had re¬ 
ceived official notice of the action of his state, he resigned his seat 
in the Senate and took leave of that body, in the presence of an 
immense throng that packed the galleries almost to suffocation. 
Never before, since the foundation of the republic, had so great a 
peril menaced its existence, and public feeling was strained to the 
highest tension. The following citations from the speech delivered 
by Mr. Davis on the occasion of his retirement are full of interest, 
as setting forth the views entertained by him at that critical time, 
the climax of his public career: — 


(< I rise, Mr. President, for the purpose of announcing to the Senate 
that I have satisfactory evidence that the state of Mississippi, by a solemn 
ordinance of her people, in convention assembled, has declared her sep¬ 
aration from the United States. Under these circumstances, of course, 
my functions are terminated here. ... It is known to senators 
who have served with me here that I have for many years ad¬ 
vocated, as an essential attribute of state sovereignty, the right 
of a state to secede from the Union. Therefore, if I had 
not believed there was justifiable cause, if I had thought 
that Mississippi was acting without sufficient provocation, or 
without an existing necessity, I should still, under my theory of 
the government, because of my allegiance to the state of which 
I am a citizen, have been bound by her action. I, however, 
may be permitted to say that I do think she has justifiable 
cause, and I approve of her act. I conferred with her people be¬ 
fore that act was taken, and counseled them then that, if the state 
of things which they apprehended should exist when their conven¬ 
tion met, they should take the action which they have now adopted 

(< I find in myself, perhaps, a type of the general feeling of my con¬ 
stituents toward yours. I am sure that I feel no hostility toward you. 
Senators from the North. I am sure there is not one of you, whatever 
sharp discussion there may have been between us, to whom I cannot now 
say, in the presence of my God, I wish you well; and such, I am sure, is 
the feeling of the people whom I represent toward those whom you rep¬ 
resent. I, therefore, feel that I but express their desire when I say I 
hope, and they hope, for peaceable relations with you, though we must 
part. They may be mutually beneficial to us in the future as they have 
been in the past, if you so will it. The reverse may bring disaster on 
every portion of the country, and if you will have it thus, we will invoke 
the God of our fathers, who delivered them from the power of the lion, 
to protect us from the ravages of the bear; and thus, putting our trust 
in God and in our firm hearts and strong arms, we will vindicate the 
right as best we may. 




144 


JEFFERSON DAVIS 


(< In the course of my service here, associated at different times with a 
great variety of Senators, I see now around me some with whom I have 
served long; there have been points of collision, but whatever of offense 
there has been to me, I leave here. I carry with me no hostile remem¬ 
brance. Whatever offense I have given which has not been redressed, 
or for which satisfaction has not been demanded, I have, Senators, in this 
hour of our parting, to offer you my apology for any pain which, in the 
heat of discussion, I have inflicted. I go hence unincumbered by the re¬ 
membrance of any injury received, and having discharged the duty of 
making the only reparation in my power for any injury offered. Mr. Pres¬ 
ident and Senators, having made the announcement which the occasion 
seemed to me to require, it only remains for me to bid you a final adieu.” 

The Senators from Florida and Alabama withdrew at the same 
time, and Mr. Davis spoke for all. It was a solemn and impressive 
scene, as the Senators left their seats and passed quietly out of the 
chamber, never to return. It had been known for several days that 
the states which they represented had seceded and that they would 
withdraw from the Senate, and the authorities had seriously consid¬ 
ered the question whether the gentlemen in question should not be 
arrested, on the ground that they were engaged in treasonable de¬ 
signs and enterprises; but nothing was done and they were per¬ 
mitted to leave Washington unmolested. On his arrival at Jackson, 
Mississippi, Mr. Davis found that the convention had made provision 
for the organization of a state army, and that he had been appointed 
to its command, with the rank of major-general. Four brigadier- 
generals had been appointed and were awaiting his arrival to be 
assigned to duty. For a short time General Davis discharged the 
duties of his position — which, with no army to command, were not 
arduous — but before the outbreak of hostilities he was called to a 
higher and broader field of action. 

The congress of delegates from the seceding states assembled at 
Montgomery, Alabama, February 4, 1861. Seven states — South Caro¬ 
lina, Georgia, Florida, Alabama, Mississippi, Louisiana and Texas — 
were represented, and it was expected that the eight other slave 
states would soon join the Confederacy. Virginia, North Carolina, 
Tennessee and Arkansas did so, but Delaware, Maryland, Kentucky 
and Missouri, known as the (( Border states,” did not. The state of 
West Virginia had not then a separate existence. It was a part of 
Virginia, but the people of that section were mostly loyal to the 
Union, and the new state was carved out of “Old Virginia” and 
admitted to the L T nion in 1863, at the middle of the war. At the 
Montgomery congress, a temporary government was formed and Jef¬ 
ferson Davis, of Mississippi, and Alexander H. Stephens, of Georgia, 


JEFFERSON DAVIS 


MS 

were elected provisional President and Vice-president, respectively. 
Mr. Davis had not desired this position. In his first volume, page 
230, he says: — 

(( For reasons which it is not now necessary to state, I had not believed 
myself as well suited to the office as some others. I thought myself bet¬ 
ter adapted to command in the field; and Mississippi had given me the 
position which I preferred to any other — the highest rank in her army.® 

Mr. Davis had been selected for President by the unanimous 
choice of the delegates to the provisional congress. There was no 
<( electioneering® or <( wire-pulling }> in his behalf, either by himself 
or by his friends. Indeed, it was well known that he had a strong 
personal preference for military service. But the call to the presi¬ 
dency was so emphatic that he did not feel at liberty to decline, and 
he accepted the position. He had consecrated to the cause of seces¬ 
sion all his energies of body and mind, and his only desire was to 
serve his people in the capacity in which they believed he would be 
most useful. He was installed in office on the eighteenth of Febru¬ 
ary. In his inaugural address he said: — 

w Our present political position has been achieved in a manner unprec¬ 
edented in the history of nations. It illustrates the American idea that 
governments rest on the consent of the governed, and that it is the right 
of the people to alter or abolish them at will, whenever they become 
destructive of the ends for which they are established. The declared pur¬ 
pose of the compact of the Union from which we have withdrawn was to 
( establish justice, insure domestic tranquillity, provide for the common 
defense, promote the general welfare and secure the blessings of liberty 
to ourselves and to our posterity U and when, in the judgment of the sov¬ 
ereign states composing this Confederacy, it has been perverted from the 
purposes for which it was ordained, and has ceased to answer the ends for 
which it was established, a peaceful appeal to the ballot box declared 
that, so far as they are concerned, the government created by that com¬ 
pact should cease to exist. In this they merely asserted the right which 
the Declaration of Independence of July 4, 1776, defined to be 4 inaliena¬ 
ble. } Of the time and occasion for its exercise they, as sovereigns, were 
the final judges; each for itself. The impartial and enlightened verdict of 
mankind will vindicate the rectitude of our conduct; and He who knows 
the hearts of men will judge of the sincerity with which we have labored 
to preserve the government of our fathers in its spirit. 

<( . . . It is joyous, in the midst of perilous times, to look around 
upon a people united in heart, where one purpose of high resolve ani¬ 
mates and actuates the whole; where the sacrifices to be made are not 
weighed in the balance against honor and right and liberty and equality. 
Obstacles may retard, but they cannot long prevent, the progress of a 


1—10 


146 


JEFFERSON DAVIS 


movement sanctified by its justice and sustained by a virtuous people. 
Reverently let us invoke the God of our fathers to guide and protect us 
in our efforts to perpetuate the principles which by his blessing the}'’ were 
able to vindicate, establish and transmit to their posterity. With the con¬ 
tinuance of his favor, ever gratefully acknowledged, we may hopefully 
look forward to success, to peace and to prosperity.” 

Not in a controversial spirit, but purely as an illustration of the 
inflamed and chaotic condition of public opinion at that time, is 
given here an extract from an editorial article in the “New York 
Tribune,” which was printed soon after the election of Mr. Lincoln. 
It was written by Horace Greeley, who all his life had been an un¬ 
compromising foe of slavery, and to the utmost of his power had 
resisted its territorial aggressions. Mr. Greeley said: — 

“We hold, with Jefferson, to the inalienable right of communities to 
alter or abolish forms of government that have become oppressive or in¬ 
jurious; and if the Cotton states shall decide that they can do better out 
of the Union than in it, we insist on letting them go in peace. The 
right to secede may be a revolutionary right, but it exists nevertheless. 
We must ever resist the asserted right of any state to remain in the 
Union and nullify or defy the laws thereof; to withdraw from the Union 
is quite another matter. And whenever a considerable section of our 
Union shall deliberately resolve to go out, we shall resist all coercive 
measures designed to keep her in. We hope never to live in a republic 
whereof one section is pinned to the residue by bayonets.” 

When such sentiments were held and openly expressed by Horace 
Greeley, it is not a matter to excite wonder that the great majority 
of the people of the South believed in the right of secession, and 
that the conditions then existing justified them in the exercise of 
that right. And this brings us back to the proposition stated in the 
opening paragraph of this article, that now, when passion and preju¬ 
dice have been softened by the lapse of years, judgment should be 
directed by the principle, “Put yourself in his place,” as set forth 
by Charles Reade in his novel, the title of which is the words 
quoted. Without attempting to pass upon the question of the inher¬ 
ent right of secession, one may, and should, concede to those who 
engaged ln the so-called “ rebellion ® the merit of a conscientious 
devotion to a principle in which they believed, and upon the issue 
of which they freely staked their lives, their fortunes and their 
sacred honor. The verdict, reached through years of blood and 
death, was against them, and they have accepted it as final. 

One more example may properly be given to show the feeling 
that then prevailed to a limited extent among the people of the 


JEFFERSON DAVIS 


147 


North. On the thirty-first of January, 1861, after six states had 
already declared their separation from the Union, a great meeting 
was held in the city of New York, to consider the perilous condition 
of the country. One of the speakers at this meeting was James S. 
Thayer, an (< Old-line Whig,” who said: — 

(< And if the incoming administration shall attempt to carry out the 
line of policy that has been foreshadowed, we announce that, when the 
hand of Black Republicanism turns to blood-red, and seeks from the frag¬ 
ment of the Constitution to construct a scaffolding for coercion,— another 
name for execution,— we will reverse the order of the French Revolution, 
and save the blood of the people by making those who would inaugurate 
a reign of terror the first victims of a national guillotine. What, then, is 
the duty of the state of New York? That the Union must be preserved? 
But if that cannot be, what then? Peaceable separation! Painful and 
humiliating as it is, let us temper it with all we can of love and kindness, 
so that we may yet be left in a comparatively prosperous condition, in 
friendly relations with another confederacy.” 


It is not within the province of this sketch to give in detail the 
events connected with the official career of Mr. Davis, as President 
of the Confederate States. After the Confederacy had been fully 
organized, with a membership of eleven states, an election was ap¬ 
pointed, to be held near the end of the year 

1861. Mr. Davis and Mr. Stephens were duly 
elected President and Vice-president, respec¬ 
tively. Their term of office, under the Con¬ 
federate constitution, was six years, but in a 
iittle more than three years from their in¬ 
auguration as permanent officials, early in 

1862, the war had been fought, the cause had 
been lost, the Confederate government had 
been scattered to the winds, and Mr. Davis 
was a prisoner in a casemate at Fortress 
Monroe. During those years the prosecution 
of the war was a constant and prodigious 
strain upon President Davis and the members 
of his Cabinet. At the beginning, and throughout 
the struggle, the Federal Government had greatly the 
advantage, not only in the preponderance of men available 
for military duty, but in the (< sinews of war” — arms, ammu¬ 
nition, food, clothing and other supplies, money and credit. All 
these the Federal Government had practically without limit. The 
Confederacy began with nothing. Every department and bureau of 





1 4 8 


JEFFERSON DAVIS 



the government, the army and the navy had to -be organized. No 
supplies could be obtained from the North, and importations from 
foreign countries were limited to such as could be brought in by the 
few vessels that were able to run the blockade. 

A great war cannot be successfully conducted with an empty treas- 
urv. and the question of finances was a source of constant perplexity. 
Confederate money, in large volume, was issued and put into circula¬ 
tion. The notes were payable ® six months after the ratification of a 
treaty of peace between the Confederate States and the United 
States,” but this was too vague and precarious for a standard of 
f * value, and this <( fiat money * was worth little outside the 
limits of the Confederacy. Its purchasing power diminished 
regularly and rapidly, as the war progressed and the pros¬ 
pect of Confederate success became more and more doubt¬ 
ful. This depreciation of the currency, coupled with actual 
scarcity of the necessaries of life, caused prices to go to a 
point almost beyond belie: — that is, if the so-called dollars 
had had any value. Three hundred dollars for a barrel of 
flour, one hundred dollars for a pair of boots, four dollars for 
a pound of bacon, were current market quotations in the South 
during the last year of the war. The Confederate government 
made several large issues of bonds. Many of the people bought 
these, as far as their means would permit, but it was necessary to find 
also a foreign market. This proved to be a difficult matter, although 
considerable amounts were sold, at a discount, in England and France. 
Generally speaking, however, men who had money to invest were re¬ 
pelled by the doubt of the redemption of the bonds. So, from first to 
last, it was a constant struggle for means to earn.* on the war — to pay 
the soldiers and to buy supplies and munitions. At times these were 
wholly insufficient, and the brave, patient soldiers marched with tat¬ 
tered clothes, shoeless feet and empty haversacks. Laying aside all 
questions of right or wrong, the world will never cease to admire the 
valor, devotion and fixedness of purpose that characterized the South¬ 
ern soldiers during their long and fruitless contest. They * fought a 
good fight,” they “kept the faith,” until overwhelmed at Nashville 
and Appomattox. The wonder is that they were able to keep up the 
struggle so long. 

During the war Mr. Davis lived, with his family, at Richmond, 
Virginia, at which place the Confederate capital was established when 
the government was fully organized. As commander-in-chief, by vir¬ 
tue of his office, and director of military operations, he carried a great 
burden of responsibility, and much of the blame for defeats and fail¬ 
ures was laid upon him by the people. He was a man of very decided 


JEFFERSON DAVIS 


149 


opinions and of strong likes and dislikes. It was inevitable that he 
should engender, in both civil and military official circles, strifes, 
jealousies and bickerings which alienated the friendship of many, 
and to some extent impaired his usefulness. A notable instance is 
the hostility that existed during the entire war between President 
Davis and General Joseph E. Johnston. The latter had been a briga¬ 
dier-general in the United States army before the war, and was the 
officer highest in rank to resign his .commission and draw his sword 
in the Confederate cause. Yet at Bull Run he was made subordinate 
to Beauregard, who had been only a captain in the <( old army, w but 
who then happened to be in the public eye because he had directed 
the operations at Fort Sumter and received its surrender. The fol¬ 
lowing year Johnston was superseded in the command of the army 
in Virginia by General Lee, who had been much his inferior in rank. 
In 1864, by order of President Davis, Johnston was displaced before 
Atlanta by General Hood, who had been but a lieutenant when 
Johnston was a brigadier-general, in the United States service. The 
administration of Mr. Davis evoked much severe criticism, but it may 
be seriously doubted whether any man could have done better. It 
was a hard official position, one that taxed to the uttermost all his 
powers of mind and body. 

Sunday, April 2, 1865, was a fateful day at Richmond. A telegraph 
messenger entered St. Paul’s Church and handed a message to Presi¬ 
dent Davis, who was sitting in his pew. For days the situation had 
been one of extreme tension, and the public mind was in a fever of 
anxiety and apprehension. For nine months the armies of Grant and 
Lee had confronted each other in the lines around Petersburg, twenty 
miles south of Richmond. In the last days of March, Grant had 
girded his army for the supreme effort. On the first day of April, 
Sheridan drove the Confederates from their position at Five Forks, 
and the following morning Grant hurled his compact masses against 
the intrenchments at Petersburg. The waste of war, which the ex¬ 
hausted resources of the South could not repair, had reduced Lee’s 
once magnificent army to a skeleton; but its spirit was still unbroken 
and it made stout resistance to an adversary whose strength was four¬ 
fold its own, and whose resources were boundless. The stronger bat¬ 
talions prevailed, and it was while his crumbling line was giving way 
and yielding to the enemy one position after another, that Lee wrote 
the dispatch that was handed to Mr. Davis in St. Paul’s Church. It 
conveyed the intelligence that Lee was no longer able to hold his 
line and that Richmond must be evacuated that night. 

Mr. Davis immediately rose from his seat and passed out of the 
church. It was noticed that he was more than usually pale, and his 


150 JEFFERSON DAVIS 

manner clearly betokened the emotions that had been stirred within 
him. Every eye in the congregation was fixed upon him, and to 
every worshiper there came a foreboding' of disaster. One and then 
another followed the President. The service was brought to a prema¬ 
ture end, and a hasty benediction dismissed the assemblage. The 
baleful tidings spread rapidly throughout the city, and the scene 
that ensued, words are powerless to describe. The ar¬ 
chives of the Confederate government were hastily trans¬ 
ferred to a railway train, on which President Davis, 
members of his Cabinet and other officials were passen¬ 
gers. The train left in the evening for Danville, Vir¬ 
ginia, where it arrived the next morning. During that 
Sunday afternoon and evening, the city of Richmond was 
in a state of the wildest panic and consternation. Hun¬ 
dreds of the citizens fled in dismay from the dreaded 
<( Yankees, w whose appearance was hourly expected. 
The lower populace, white and black, became riotous, 
and ravaged at will through the stores and deserted 
dwellings. Fires were started and these raged during 
the night, laying in ashes a very considerable part of the city. It 
was a night of pandemonium and terror, of wild excess and passion, 
of desolation and doom. With the dawn came the measured tread of 
the Union soldiers; and the stars and stripes floated over the Confed¬ 
erate capital, after four years of bloody conflict. 

Grant and Sheridan brought Lee to bay at Appomattox, and the 
surrender of his army marked the end. The Confederate structure 
crumbled in ruin, as fell the temple of the Philistines when Samson 
“bowed himself ® and wrenched away its pillars. Mr. Davis did not 
yet abandon hope and favored a continuance of the struggle. But he 
was alone in considering this as even a possibility. His advisers, 
civil and military, were unanimous in the opinion that the fight was 
done — the cause was irrevocably lost. The United States Govern¬ 
ment offered a reward of one hundred thousand dollars for the arrest 
of Mr. Davis, and he became a hunted fugitive. He met his wife in 
Georgia, whither she had gone from Richmond, and in company with 
her and a small party of friends he made his way to the southwest- 
ward. The purpose he had in mind is stated in his work, Volume 
II., page 697: — 

(< to go to the south far enough to pass below the points reported to be 
occupied by Federal troops, and then turn to the west, cross the Chatta¬ 
hoochee, and go to meet the forces still supposed to be in the field in 
Alabama; if, as now seemed probable, there should be no prospect of a 
successful resistance east of the Mississippi, I intended then to cross to the 









JEFFERSON DAVIS 


U 1 

trans-Mississippi department, where I believed Generals E. Kirby Smith and 
Magruder would continue to uphold our cause.” 

Near Irwinsville, Georgia, the bivouac of Mr. Davis was surrounded 
by Federal cavalry during the night, and at dawn the entire party 
was captured. Mr. Davis was taken to Fortress Monroe, where he 
was confined in a casemate for two years. Part of the time he was 
kept in irons, a fact which is not creditable to those who directed 
that the manacles be placed upon his limbs. In May, 1866, in the 
United States Court sitting at Norfolk, he was indicted for treason. 
It is doubtless true that this was done to appease popular clamor 
at the North, which demanded a sacrifice by way of atonement; but 
to the thoughtful mind it was difficult to perceive any logical reason 
why Mr. Davis should be made the scapegoat for all who took active 
part in the rebellion. There were a hundred, a thousand, others who 
might with ecjual fitness be arraigned at the bar of justice. Few 
persons believed that Mr. Davis would ever be brought to trial and 
punishment. Time cooled the passion and softened the judgment of 
men, and in May, 1867, Mr. Davis was released on bail. Horace 
Greeley, who had been one of his most implacable political enemies, 
voluntarily signed the bond as one of the sureties. On Christmas 
Day, 1868, President Johnson issued a general proclamation of amnesty 
for all who had been engaged in the rebellion, and the legal pro¬ 
ceedings against Mr. Davis were discontinued. 

Mr. Davis — as did a few others in the South — remained to the 
last so true to his convictions that he refused to renew his allegiance 
to the United States, and was never restored to citizenship. In the 
opinion of many of his friends, this was not the part of wisdom, but 
he was the judge of his own motives, and his judgment must stand 
in justification of his course. None can wonder that he became so 
embittered against the government, after the harsh treatment, not 
to say indignity, that he had suffered at its hands. All of his large 
property had been swept away by the war — his slaves set free by 
the Emancipation Proclamation, his plantation in Mississippi ravaged, 
his lands confiscated and his residence burned. He left his prison 
cell in Fortress Monroe well-nigh penniless, advanced in years and 
prematurely old by reason of the wound he had received at Buena 
Vista, and the burden of public cares and responsibilities that he had 
borne so long. The thoughtful bounty of friends provided a pleasant 
home for him and his family, which was named (< Beauvoir, ” near 
Biloxi, Mississippi, and there, in absolute retirement, he spent the 
remainder of his days, with the exception of some time passed in 
Europe. He died December 6, 1889, at the age of eighty-one. 

Public mourning throughout the South was sincere and universal. 


1 5 2 


JEFFERSON DAVIS 


The people united in paying the most lofty and affectionate tribute 
to his memory. His friends were severe in their criticism of the au¬ 
thorities at Washington because they refused to place the flag on the 
War Department at half mast, as was and is the custom at the death 
of one who formerly had been at the head of the department. It 
will be recalled that Mr. Davis was Secretary of War in the Cabinet 
of President Pierce, from 1853 to 1857. Nearly a quarter of a century 
had passed since the close of the Civil War, but the feeling was 
yet too strong to permit the payment of honors to the memory of 
one who in years gone by, at least, had served his country well as a 
soldier, a statesman and a patriot. The remains of Mr. Davis rest 
beneath a massive monument in the cemetery at Richmond, Virginia. 
It was deemed fitting that the scene of his labors in the cause of 
Southern independence should be his burial place. 

In 1881 Mr. Davis published his two large volumes, <( Rise and 
Fall of the Confederate Government.” The work is more argu¬ 
mentative than historical, and is exhaustive in its review of the causes 
and conditions that led to the war, and in its stout maintenance of 
the doctrine of state sovereignty and the right of secession. 
Much space is also given to a personal vindication of his 
administration as the Confederate President, in answer to 
those who criticized some of his official acts. It is just 
such a book as might have been expected from Mr. 
Davis, and reflects much of the bitterness that existed 
in his heart toward the government that <( subjugated ” 
the states of the South. The work shows great abil¬ 
ity and care, but its tendency is not to promote peace 
and good-will between the sections. Some of the 
utterances of Mr. Davis are regrettable, and yet the 
m reader cannot repress a feeling of charity for one 
whose conscientiousness none can doubt, and who suffered and sacri¬ 
ficed so much for the cause in the justice of which he believed. 
The value of his “Rise and Fall” lies in its presentation of the 
Southern cause, by which the world may judge of the sincerity of 
motive and fixedness of purpose that actuated the people of the 
seceding states. 





1 53 


STEPHEN DECATUR 


Whose exploits on the sea made him famous. 

H istory, through all the long line of human achievements, pre¬ 
sents no more illustrious examples of valorous deeds, inspired 
by patriotic devotion to duty, than those which are found in 
the annals of the United States navy. Men who fight on ships must 
face a double peril. Those who escape the missiles of the enemy 
may meet death in the pitiless sea. In all our wars, men of 
dauntless courage — subalterns and seamen as well as com¬ 
manders— entirely fearless of danger, have defended their 
flag on the ocean with a constancy that commanded the 
admiration of the world. Their deeds have been im¬ 
mortalized in story and in song. 

There were two Stephen Decaturs, father and son, 
both of whom reached the rank of commodore. The 
elder, son of a Huguenot refugee, was born 
Rhode Island, served with distinction in the Rev 
lutionary War, and died in 1808. The younger D 
catur, the subject of this sketch, was a native 0 
Maryland, born in 1779. At the age of nineteen, he entered the navy 
as a midshipman, and evinced such capacity that within a year he 
was commissioned a lieutenant. He seemed to have been born to 
the sea, and showed a remarkable aptitude in acquiring a knowledge 
of his duties. In their discharge he was earnest, zealous and intel¬ 
ligent, to a degree that early marked him for a career of distinction. 
Personally, his manners were engaging, and his kindly disposition 
drew around him a throng of admiring associates. It has been said 
of him that he was “a lamb to his friends, a lion to his enemies.® 
In February, 1804, Lieutenant Decatur was the hero of an exploit 
which, for boldness of design and stout-hearted intrepidity of execu¬ 
tion, has few parallels in the record of brave deeds, and which cov¬ 
ered his name with a luster that time cannot dim. In the latter part 
of 1803, during the war with Tripoli, the L T nited States frigate 
“Philadelphia,” commanded by Captain William Bainbridge, while 
cruising off the harbor of Tripoli, sighted one of the enemy’s vessels 
and at once gave chase. The hostile ship made for the harbor, fol- 





x 54 


STEPHEN DECATUR 


lowed by the <( Philadelphia ® in an effort to bring her to action. 
Bainbridge was in strange waters, without a chart, and his vessel 
struck hard upon a rock. Every possible effort was made to release 
her, but she was immovable, and in such a position that her guns 
were useless. Her helpless condition was discovered by the enemy, 
and the ill-fated ship, one of the finest in the navy of the United 
States, was soon under the fire, not only of half a dozen Tripolitan 
gunboats, but also of the forts, within range of whose heavy guns 
the vessel lay. There could be but one result. Captain Bainbridge, 
when not a spark of hope remained, struck his colors and all on 
board were surrendered as prisoners of war. Among these, besides 
the captain, were Porter, Jones and Biddle, who had already won 
plaudits for their gallantry and afterward became famous in naval 
history. 

The American fleet in the Mediterranean Sea was commanded by 
Commodore Edward Preble. Early in 1804, Lieutenant Decatur asked 
permission of Preble to attempt to (< cut out® the (< Philadelphia, ® 
which had been floated, repaired and put in service by her captors 
and was lying in the harbor of Tripoli. Decatur worked out the 
details of his plan and submitted them to his chief. It was an 
audacious scheme, astonishing in its boldness, but the young lieuten¬ 
ant was so confident of success that the commodore consented. His 
plan was to seize the vessel at night, and to destroy her if it was 
found impracticable to take her out of the port. Two small, fast¬ 
sailing vessels wefe placed at Decatur’s disposal for the expedition. 
The <( flagship ® of his miniature squadron was a <( ketch ® called the 
“Intrepid,® and her consort was a still smaller vessel, the <( Syren,® 
commanded by Lieutenant Charles Stewart. The crews were com¬ 
posed entirely of volunteers, to whom the extremely hazardous nature 
of the duty had -been fully explained. Notwithstanding the peril, 
three times as many men offered their services as were needed. 
The best were selected, and there was not a man of those lion- 
hearted crews who would not have followed his intrepid commander 
into the very jaws of death. 

The two little vessels, supplied with everything necessary to carry 
out the enterprise, sailed from the port of Syracuse, Sicily, on Febru¬ 
ary 3, arriving off Tripoli soon after sunset, on the sixteenth. The 
“Intrepid,® commanded by Decatur, was filled with inflammable mat¬ 
ter, and, if necessary, was to be used as a fire ship to destroy the 
“Philadelphia,® her crew to find refuge on the <( Syren. ® Decatur 
and Stewart arranged the details of execution with the greatest care, 
so that the two crews might act in perfect unison. The position of 
the “ Philadelphia ® had been made out, and it was proposed to sail 


STEPHEN DECATUR 


T 55 


directly to her, both crews to leap on her deck and thus take her 
by <( boarding.” Before starting, Decatur called his men together and 
explained to them the plan of operations, so that each might know 
how to act at the supreme moment. He told them of the great 
hazard and addressed to them a few words of exhortation to duty. 
Every heart swelled with enthusiasm in response to the patriotic 
sentiments of their leader. At ten o’clock the <( Intrepid” and <( Syren,” 
which had been lying-to, waiting for the curtain of night, set sail and 
noiselessly entered the harbor. 

The w Philadelphia,” after her release from the rock, had been 
moored within close range of powerful land batteries, and two of 
the largest Tripolitan corsairs were anchored within two cable-lengths. 
The captive vessel was manned by nearly a thousand Turks, for an 
attempt to rescue her had been anticipated. If there ever was a 
<( forlorn hope,” it was that little expedition, as it quietly made its 
way through the darkness upon its perilous mission. At eleven 
o’clock the Americans were within two hundred yards of the (< Phila¬ 
delphia. ” Up to this time they had not been discovered, biit now 
they were hailed by a sentinel. Decatur had expected a challenge, 
and had instructed his Maltese pilot to answer in the Turkish tongue. 
The pilot did so, and the sentinel was so deceived that he reported 
<( All’s well! ” When within fifty yards, Decatur sent a small boat to 
attach a rope to the forechains of the (< Philadelphia, ” by which to 
draw the <( Intrepid ” alongside. All this was quickly done and De¬ 
catur leaped to the deck of the <( Philadelphia,” followed by Lieu¬ 
tenant Lawrence, Midshipmen Morris and Macdonough, and the crew 
of the <( Intrepid.” A moment later the crew of the (< Syren,” headed 
by Stewart, poured over the rail. The scene that followed cannot 
be described. The Turks, now thoroughly alarmed, came up from 
below by scores, only to be assailed with the utmost fury by the 
boarders, armed with cutlasses and pistols. The Turks were in a 
frenzy of panic, as Decatur and his men rushed upon them, dealing 
death and mutilation. In ten minates the ship was in the complete 
possession of the Americans. Lieutenant Decatur’s father had com¬ 
manded the (< Philadelphia ” years before, and no words can express 
the pride and satisfaction which filled the heart of the son as he 
trod the deck of the now recaptured frigate. 

But there was no time for sentiment. Whatever was to be done 
must be done quickly. It was seen at once that it would be im¬ 
possible to (< cut her out. ” The forts and the corsairs had already 
opened their guns upon the (< Philadelphia. ” There was no wind with 
which to sail her out of the harbor, nor was it possible to tow her 
with the two small craft. The order was given to set her on fire at 


J 5 6 


STEPHEN DECATUR 


every inflammable point. In twenty different places the torch was 
applied and then the crews returned to the <( Intrepid ® and (< Syren.® 
A favoring breeze sprang up, every sail was spread, and they were 
soon beyond the range of the hostile guns. Of the two crews not 
a man had been killed and the wounded numbered but four. Their 
safe return was like a resurrection from the dead. The flames 
spread rapidly and soon enveloped the (< Philadelphia. w The 
panic-stricken crew could do nothing to save the ship. Scores 
of the Turks leaped into the sea and were drowned. As 
the loaded guns became heated they were discharged. 
Some of the shots reached the town and created 
there the wildest consternation. The destruction of 
the vessel was complete. The work of the fire was 
finished by that of the explosions when the flames 
reached the magazines. 

Later in the same year, in a naval battle, an 
American vessel commanded by Lieutenant James 
A. Decatur, a brother of Stephen, captured a Tri¬ 
politan gunboat. After the surrender of the lat¬ 
ter, her treacherous commander, a Turk, drew a 
pistol upon Lieutenant James Decatur and shot him 
dead. He then recovered the mastery of the gun¬ 
boat and escaped. As soon as Stephen learned of the 
murder of his brother, he took a single boat, with a crew consisting 
of Midshipman Macdonough and nine men, and made for the gun¬ 
boat. The lieutenant and his crew sprang upon the deck and a 
most extraordinary conflict followed. Decatur made for his brother’s 
murderer, who was a powerful man, much heavier than himself. 
After a desperate and prolonged struggle to the death, Decatur suc¬ 
ceeded in killing the Turk, after he had been, himself, severely 
wounded. The little boat’s crew captured the vessel after nearly all 
of them had been wounded. The slaughtered Turks lay upon the 
deck almost in heaps. 

For the very distinguished gallantry of his <( Philadelphia® exploit, 
Decatur was made a captain. During the War of 1812 he com¬ 
manded the frigate (< LTnited States,” with which he captured the 
British frigate <( Macedonian. ” For this gallant achievement he was 
voted a gold medal by Congress. In 1815 he was sent against the 
Algerians. He conducted his operations with such energy that he 
captured several of their vessels and compelled them to sue for 
peace. Decatur returned to America at the pinnacle of fame. By 
Congress and by the people, everywhere the highest honors were 
showered upon him for his many valorous deeds. 



STEPHEN DECATUR 


*57 


Decatur’s life came suddenly to a most pathetic end. He was 
but forty-one years old, still in the prime of vigorous manhood. His 
home was in Washington, where he had a delightful residence on 
Lafayette Square, near the White House. He had a beautiful and 
highly accomplished wife, who was passionately devoted to her gal¬ 
lant husband. After a long period of service at sea, he was assigned 
to shore duty, and was appointed to the position of naval commis¬ 
sioner. This permitted him to be at his home in Washington and 
to enjoy his happy domestic relations. Most unfortunately, he be¬ 
came involved in a controversy with Commodore James Barron, of 
the navy. Barron had been suspended from duty for alleged mis¬ 
conduct at sea. He sought to be reinstated, and Decatur, in an 
official communication, urged that he be not restored to duty. After 
much personal bitterness between them, Barron sent a challenge to 
Decatur, which the latter accepted. Decatur did not approve of 
dueling, but he felt that he could not lay himself open to the charge 
of cowardice by declining the challenge. 

On the evening of March 21, 1820, there was a large social gath¬ 
ering at the Decatur home. This was one of the favorite resorts 
for the social leaders at the national capital. Commodore and Mrs. 
Decatur were accomplished entertainers, and their salon was thronged 
at every social occasion there. On the night in question the assem¬ 
blage was an especially brilliant one. Mrs. Decatur was most gra¬ 
cious in her hospitality, and several times entertained her friends 

with the harp, on which she was an expert performer. The Com¬ 

modore was at his best, and throughout the evening there was no 
abatement of that charm of manner which was so attractive to those 
around him. Only two or three of his trusted friends knew that all 
the arrangements had been completed for a duel with Barron the 
next morning. Decatur remained in the parlor till all the guests 

had gone. Then he retired, and at dawn carefully arose, without 

awakening his wife or any other member of the sleeping household. 
He walked to Beale’s tavern, near the Capitol, where he breakfasted. 
Then, accompanied by his second, he went to Bladensburg, just over 
the line in Maryland, the usual meeting place of Washington duel¬ 
ists. The duel took place at nine o’clock. Both combatants were 
struck, Decatur fatally. He was removed to his home, where he 
died twelve hours later. His body was followed to the grave by 
the President and a large concourse of illustrious men. For three 
years Mrs. Decatur shut herself entirely apart from the world. The 
bullet from Barron’s weapon also pierced her breast and left a 
wound that time could not heal. 


GEORGE DEWEY 



The whole world applauded his feat at Manila. 

« you may fire when you are ready, Gridley,® was the quiet remark 
of Commodore Dewey to the captain of his flagship, which 
unleashed the dogs of war in Manila Bay on that bright 
May-day morning in 1898. The words seem more like the granting 
of a great privilege than an official order, and such, no doubt, they 
were to the gallant Gridley. That was a historic and glori¬ 
ous May-day to Dewey and his men, to the American navy, 
and to the whole people and the Government of the 
United States, for that day marked a prodigious stride 
forward by the American republic among the nations 
of the earth, and the birth of a vastly greater re¬ 
spect for its flag and that which it represents, than 
the hitherto dominating powers of the world had 
ever felt before. How the messages that were 
flashed under the sea from Manila during the com¬ 
bat caused the heart of every American to swell with pride ! How they 
quickened the pulses and sent the blood leaping through the veins! On 
that day our republic ceased to be an object of pity or disdain. It 
was born again — born into an infinitely larger sphere of national 
existence, activity and influence. Thenceforward it was to take its 
rightful place, to be accorded the respect which it commanded by 
the thunder of its guns at Manila and the echo at Santiago. When 
war with Spain was declared, the world said the Americans could not 
fight; but when Dewey uttered those words to Gridley, (< the men be¬ 
hind the guns * silenced the scornful tongues forever. 

George Dewey was a Green Mountain boy, born in Montpelier, 
Vermont, December 26, .1837. His father was a doctor, of high 
personal standing and professional repute. If the truth be told, 
George, had the name of being a (< bad boy,® and, judging from 
the weight of evidence, this designation was fairly deserved. It was 
not that he was vicious, for the depravity which made him the terror 
of the staid village folk did not go beyond mischievous pranks that 
were the outgrowth of an exuberant spirit. George was the ringleader 
in such matters, and the people called him the <( bell-wether. w He was 
fond of athletic sports, and there were few of these in which he did 



GEORGE DEWEY 


159 


not excel. In short, he was a hearty, robust, good-natured, royster- 
ing New England boy, giving to these words their largest meaning. 
He attended school in his own town and elsewhere, and devoted to 
study as much time as he could spare from his sports and pranks. 
But he was bright, and made such good progress that, at the age of 
sixteen, he was able to enter Norwich University. A year later he 
decided to enter the navy, if he could, and the way was opened by 
an appointment to the Naval Academy, at Annap¬ 
olis. Just as he crossed the threshold of 
hood, in 1858, he graduated with credit, i 
a class which became conspicuous for the 
large number of its members who attained 
high fame and honor. 

Dewey’s first service was on the frig¬ 
ate (< Wabash,” in Mediterranean waters. 

There was nothing worthy of note in 
his career until opportunity was afforded 
by the Civil War. When this began, he 
had returned from his European cruise 
and was ready for any duty. He was com- ^ ■*» Cr * “ e 

missioned a lieutenant and assigned to the steam 

sloop <( Mississippi. ® This belonged to the Gulf squadron, which was 
commanded by that peerless sea fighter, David G. Farragut. Dewey 
was first under fire during the naval operations against the forts and 
the Confederate gunboats and rams which formed the defenses of 
New Orleans. During the combat the Confederate ram <( Manassas” 
disabled the <( Mississippi ” by a blow with its beak, but Lieutenant 
Dewey — whose coolness and intrepidity won the personal commen¬ 
dation of Farragut — directed a broadside which pierced the armor of 
the (< Manassas ” and set it on fire. An explosion followed, and the 
ram was totally destroyed. Full credit for this achievement was 
officially awarded to Dewey, who thus auspiciously, under such an 
inspiring exemplar of fearlessness and devotion as Farragut, began 
that upward climb which, nearly forty years later, was to place him 
on the topmost rung of the ladder. 

With Farragut he passed through the fire of the forts, and later, 
during the service of the fleet on the Mississippi River, twice ran 
the batteries at Vicksburg and Port Hudson. In 1864 Dewey served 
with the James River squadron, and in 1865 was conspicuous for his 
gallantry and efficiency at Fort Fisher, recognition of which was 
given by his promotion to the grade' of lieutenant-commander. During 
the thirty years succeeding the war, Dewey’s duties, on sea and 
shore, were varied, and included service as an instructor at the 



16 o 


GEORGE DEWEY 


Naval Academy and on naval boards at Washington, and cruises 
in all parts of the world. Further promotion came to him; he was 
made a commander in 1872, a captain in 1884, and a commodore in 
1896. 

In January, 1898, it became necessary to find a new commander 
for the American squadron in Asiatic waters. The war-cloud was 
then lowering darkly. It was obvious that if there should be war it 
would be chiefly fought on sea, and there was a general pricking up 
of ears among the officers of the navy, for there would be many 
chances to win renown. Commodore Dewey was selected for the 
Asiatic station. Certainly the choice was a most happy one. Possi¬ 
bly others might have done as well; surely none could have done 
better. But to the Commodore and his friends, the order was most 
unwelcome. Dewey was ambitious, and eager for a chance to fight. 
He believed that the serious work of the navy would be done on 
the Atlantic, and there all the glory would be won. To go to the 
Pacific seemed to him like entering a cemetery, and he so expressed 
himself to his friends. But, without a word of official complaint or 
objection, he packed his belongings and left for his new post of 
duty. 

Dewey’s profound loyalty to his flag is shown by an incident 
which occurred at Hong-Kong, China, in March, soon after he had 
assumed command of the American squadron. Prince Henry, com¬ 
mander of the German fleet that lay in the harbor, gave a ban¬ 
quet to the high officers of all the fleets there, which represented 
several nations. The Prince proposed the toasts, complimenting 
each country in turn, including China, but he entirely omitted any 
allusion to the United States — a strange mischance, if accidental, 
and a gross and unpardonable affront, if intentional. The moment 
the toasts were finished, Commodore Dewey, with flushed face and 
flashing eye, arose from his seat, left the table, and took his leave 
without the slightest ceremony. He refused to accept anything short 
of a written apology from the Prince himself. This was given, and 
expressed in courtly phrase the strongest assurance that the slight 
had been wholly without intent, and sincere regret that it had oc¬ 
curred. Soon afterward, Prince Henry gave a ball. Dewey was 
invited, but he did not choose to go. 

Ten days after the <( Maine” had been sunk in the harbor of 
Havana, an order was cabled to Commodore Dewey to concentrate 
the vessels under his command and to hold himself in readiness to 
move against the Spanish fleet in Philippine waters at a moment’s 
notice, in the event that war should be declared. Dewey at once 
assembled at Hong-Kong the “Boston,” “Concord,” “Raleigh,” 


GEORGE DEWEY 


I 6 I 

<{ Baltimore,” (< McCulloch ” and (< Petrel,” which, with the <( Olympia,” 
his flagship, composed his force. The war began on the twenty- 
first of April, and three days later President McKinley, as commander- 
in-chief of the land and naval forces of the United States, sent 
this message to Dewey: — 

<( Proceed at once to the Philippine Islands and commence operations, 
especially against the Spanish fleet. You must capture or destroy the 
vessels. Use utmost endeavor.” 

Dewey sailed on the twenty-seventh, and on the thirtieth lay off 
the island of Luzon. He had hoped to find the Spanish fleet outside 
and to meet it in open water, but he ascertained that it was in 
Manila Bay, under cover of the forts and shore batteries. The 
American squadron lay off shore during the day, and Dewey per¬ 
fected his plan and issued his orders accordingly. He had determined 
to pass by night through the narrow entrance to the bay, and to 
attack the enemy in the early morning. It was known that the 
bottom of the harbor had been <( planted ” with torpedoes and sub¬ 
marine mines, but this did not for an instant deter him from his 
audacious purpose. It is the brave man, not the coward, that wins 
battles, on land or sea. 

Under cover of darkness the vessels, in majestic procession, crept 
noiselessly into the channel and past the batteries on Corregidor 
Island. All lights had been extinguished, and perfect silence had 
been enjoined upon officers and crews. But for a spark from the 
funnel of the <( McCulloch,” without doubt the squadron would have 
made the passage into the bay wholly unobserved. The spark be¬ 
trayed the presence of the American vessels, and the Spanish forts 
at once opened fire. The <( Raleigh,” (< Boston ” and (< Concord,” which, 
at the moment, were abreast of the forts, responded with vigor. The 
firing was wholly at random, and none of the vessels were touched. 
With an intrepidity that the whole world admired and honored, 
Dewey led the way with the “Olympia,” moving steadily forward in 
spite of mines, torpedoes and batteries. The latter kept up a furi¬ 
ous fire, but straight on, not faltering for an instant, swept the mighty 
pageant. Dewey’s feat of passing the batteries is worthy to rank 
with that of Farragut at New Orleans, in immortal defiance of the 
blazing forts. Dewey had been with Farragut, and he gave to the 
world a noble instance of a grand example grandly followed. With¬ 
out dodging or changing their course, the ships passed up the bay, 
to breast the hostile fleet, which lay near the city of Manila. Be¬ 
hind it were forts, bristling with heavy cannon. 

At a quarter past five o’clock in the morning, all the batteries 


162 


GEORGE DEWEY 




at Manila and Cavite opened on the American ships. These, the 
flagship still leading, kept on until within range of the Spaniards, 
when Dewey gave to Captain Gridley the famous order to open fire, 
at the same time communicating his orders, by means of signals, to 
the other vessels. Two mines exploded near the (< Olympia w and 
she narrowly escaped destruction, but in the face of death not an 
officer or man quailed for an instant. After two hours of fighting, 
it occurred to Dewey that his men must be hungry, for all the 
work of the morning had been done without breakfast. Two or 
three of the vessels had been struck, but not one of them was 
seriously injured, or in any degree disabled. The excellent work of 
the American gunners was clearly apparent. One of the Spanish 
ships was in flames, and two or three others were so crippled as to 
be entirely helpless. 

Dewey was sure of his prey, and as a cat toys with a mouse be¬ 
fore the final thrust of its teeth into the quivering victim, so Dewey 
signaled to w cease firing, w and the whole fleet steamed down the 
bay. Here it lay several hours, to give the men opportunity for rest 
and refreshment. There was no possibility of escape for the enemy; 
no human power could avert the impending doom. But Admiral 
Montojo, the Spanish commander, leaped to the conclusion that the 
American ships had been so badly damaged by his fire that they 
had abandoned the fight and sailed away. In the joy of the moment, 
he cabled to Spain that such was the case, and, for a brief 
period, there was great rejoicing at the Castilian court. 

At eleven o’clock Dewey again started his engines and 
turned the prows of his ships toward the foe, to 
finish his work. He did finish it most thoroughly, 
and two hours sufficed. The Spaniards ceased to 
resist, because they no longer had anything with which 
to fight. Montojo had twelve vessels, large and 
small, and not one of them escaped. Burned, sunk, 
battered and riddled, the hostile fleet was now little 
more than a mass of wreckage. The Spaniards lost 
in the action about two hundred killed or drowned and a 
large number wounded. The Americans lost not a man killed, but 
four or five slightly wounded, and not a ship seriously damaged. The 
history of the world furnished no parallel to the battle of Manila, 
until it found a counterpart at Santiago, two months later. 

The people of the United States were electrified by the dispatches 
from Manila. The national colors were everywhere displayed and 
<( Old Glory B floated from every peak. Few people had ever before 
heard of George Dewey, but now his name was on every lip — and 



GEORGE DEWEY 


163 


not only in his own country, but throughout the civilized world. 
Veterans of the sea in foreign countries held up their hands in 
astonishment at the victory Dewey had achieved, and at a cost so 
trifling as to be scarcely worthy of mention. The monarchs of Eu¬ 
rope, who hitherto had dictated the international policy of the world, 
rubbed their eyes and awoke to the fact that a new power had 
arisen, with which they must reckon hereafter. Admiral Colomb, of 
England, paid this tribute to Dewey: — 

a The boldness and the address of the American Commodore are be¬ 
yond question. Henceforth he must be placed in the Walhalla of great 
naval commanders. Nothing can detract from the dash and vigor of his 
exploit at Manila, or dim the glory which he has shed on the American 
navy. It may be bad for the world, for assuredly the American navy will 
never accept a subordinate place after this exhibition of what it can do.® 

Dewey was immediately promoted to the rank of rear-admiral. 
In the following March, on the recommendation of President McKin¬ 
ley, Congress revived the grade of admiral. The President nominated 
Dewey for the position, and he was unanimously confirmed by the 
Senate. But two other American sea fighters had ever reached this 
rank. These were David G. Farragut and David D. Porter—the 
latter having been promoted to that grade on the death of Admiral 
Farragut. This not only placed Admiral Dewey at the head of the 
navy, but made him the officer highest in rank in either the naval 
or military forces of the United States, the grade of major-general 
being coincident with that of rear-admiral. These promotions were 
heartily ratified by the voice of the people. No naval or military 
hero was ever raised more quickly to the very pinnacle of fame. No 
man can win the applause of the world without the opportunity. 
The order which assigned George Dewey, so much against his wish, 
to the command of the Asiatic squadron, brought to him an oppor¬ 
tunity that has come to few men in the world’s history. He proved 
to be the man to grasp it and to fulfill its largest possibilities. 

Dewey, with his ships, was complete master of the situation at 
Manila. In the management of affairs, he displayed a degree of 
judgment and adroitness and an administrative ability that marked 
him as having no small comprehension of statesmanship. He was 
the sole arbiter until the arrival of a large military force, some two 
months after the battle. After a year of constant duty in the Phil¬ 
ippines, Admiral Dewey was ordered home. He sailed from Manila, 
in the (< Olympia,® near the end of May, 1899. He made a leisurely 
voyage, by way of the Suez Canal and the Mediterranean Sea. He 
stopped at various foreign ports, and everywhere the highest honors 


164 


GEORGE DEWEY 


were paid to him. He reached New York early in the autumn, and 
was accorded a reception exceeding in magnificent pageantry any 
similar event in the history of America. In other cities there were 
also prodigious popular demonstrations in his honor. He took up 
his residence in Washington, in a fine house which had been bought 
by popular subscription and presented to him, and entered upon his 
duties as the executive head of the navy. One writer has said: — 

(< It is perhaps unexampled in history that an officer should serve his 
government faithfully and well, and often under most dangerous conditions; 
that he should pass, without special public note, through the different 
grades to near the highest, and then, at the age of sixty, by one marvel¬ 
ous feat of inspired daring, overshadow all previous great records of the 
world.” 

Dewey married, in 1867, a daughter of Governor Gardiner, of New 
Hampshire. She died in 1872, leaving one son, the Admiral’s only 
child. He remained a widower nearly thirty years. A few months 
after his return from Manila, he married the widow of General Wil¬ 
liam B. Hazen, an officer who won distinction in the Civil War. 


i6 5 


THOMAS ALVA EDISON 


Something about the « Wizard of Menlo Park .» 

O hio, succeeding to the title long held by Virginia of (< Mother of 
Presidents,” is justly proud of the circumstances that five chief 
magistrates—Grant, Hayes, Garfield, Harrison and McKinley 
— were native Buckeyes, though Grant and Harrison came to the 
presidency from other states. Sherman, who shared with Grant the 
honors arising from the Civil War, was an Ohioan; 
and Sheridan the last of the trinity of great Union 
generals, though born in New York, went to West 
Point from Ohio, the home of his adoption. Ohio 
was early favored in the character of the people 
attracted to her borders. The descendants of the 
New England Puritans here met and intermarried with 
the descendants of the sturdy Dutch of the Middle 
states, and of the Cavaliers and Scotch Irish of the 
South. Such a commingling of blood produced men 
well fitted to lead in every field of human endeavor, 
may reasonably account for Ohio’s prominence during the dark 
days of civil war, and her prominence in the domain of national 
politics almost continually since the war. But Ohio has the further 
distinction of being the birthplace of a man whose scientific 
achievements have carried his name wherever civilization exists, 
and whose works will endure long after her statesmen and military 
captains have passed into forgotten history. That man is Thomas 
Alva Edison, the most prolific of American inventors — which 
means of all inventors, for in this field America magnificently leads 
England, France and Germany. At this time (1901), Edison is but 
fifty-four years old, yet between 1870 and 1900 he had taken out seven 
hundred and twenty-seven patents. Edison is descended from a long- 
lived race and this, with his simple tastes and quiet habits of living, 
should insure him a long lease of life. He should be comparatively 
young at eighty, and possibly his best work is yet to come. 

Edison was seven years old when his parents left the quiet Ohio 
village of Milan, where he was born, removed to Michigan and settled 
in the bustling town of Grand Rapids. His mother had been a 





THOMAS ALVA EDISON 


166 

school-teacher before marriage, and was a woman of marked indi¬ 
viduality, with more than the average culture of that day. From her, 
Thomas received both his mental poise and intellectual training, for 
his school attendance was limited to a short term of two months. 
By his mother he was instructed in the fundamental branches of 
knowledge and, what is still better, in the objects of knowledge. Her 
personal experience taught her what many public educators have 
since learned, that to assist the intellectual development of youth by 
training them to think logically, is more important than to require 
the performance of a certain amount of routine work. Mrs. Edison 
early, implanted the love of learning in young Edison’s mind, and at 
the age of ten he had read the <( Penny Encyclopedia,” Hume’s (< His¬ 
tory of England,” <( History of the Reformation,” Gibbon’s <( Rome,® 
Sears’s (< History of the World,” several volumes of chemistry and 
other scientific works. He read them faithfully, too, never skipping 
a word, and fixing his mind upon every page. 

It is the habit of American lads to strike out early for themselves 
— to see the world, to take their place in it and to relieve their 
fathers of their support. In this, as in other respects, Edison was 
typically American. He was twelve years old when he seized the 
opportunity to sell newspapers on the Grand Trunk Railway. He 
handled the miscellaneous class of merchandise that is sold by the 
train-boys to-day, and, for a youngster, built up a flourishing busi¬ 
ness. He continued this work four years, accumulating in all nearly 
two thousand dollars, which he dutifully gave to his parents. The 
accidental circumstance of rescuing from a passing train the infant 
son of the station agent at Mt. Clemens, interested the father in 
young Edison and, as a reward, he taught him telegraphy. 

Edison’s novitiate lasted five months and then his wandering career 
began. After a few months’ employment at Port Huron, where he 
acquired further experience, Edison drifted into Canada, finding em¬ 
ployment with the Grand Trunk Railway, as night operator at Strat¬ 
ford. Here his genius for invention was first displayed. To guard 
against sleeping on duty, the operators were required to report every 
half hour to the wire chief, usually the night train dispatcher. At the 
expiration of thirty minutes, beginning at nine o’clock, each operator 
was to . open the circuit and write the word <( six,” following it with 
the figure (< 6 ” and sign his office call. The operator who did not 
write his <( six ” was supposedly asleep, and, as soon as aroused, was 
sternly lectured for his delinquency. Edison found a way at once of 
maintaining his record and spending the night in refreshing slumber. 
He rigged a wheel with Morse characters on the rim in such a way 
that when turned by a crank it would (< six ” beautifully. The 


THOMAS ALVA EDISON 


167 


watchman turned the wheel while Edison slept. Edison’s failure a lit¬ 
tle later to deliver a train order nearly resulted in a collision, and 
he hurriedly left Canada and returned home to avoid the conse¬ 
quences. 

With increased experience and skill, Edison gradually drew away 
from railroading and found employment with the Western Union 
Telegraph Company. From Indianapolis, his first assignment as com¬ 
mercial operator, he went to Cincinnati and thence to Memphis. In¬ 
toxicated with the pleasure of travel, which the demand for operators 
made easy, he planned a trip to South America. He had gone as 
far as New Orleans, when he decided against the wisdom of his 
course, returned North and accepted for a second time a place in 
the Cincinnati office. He was now twenty } T ears old and rather tall 
for his age, having apparently attained his full stature. He was thin 
and hollow-chested, and his clothing hung loosely about him. He 
was healthy enough and capable of prolonged physical exertion, but 
he looked unwholesome and ill nourished. Then, as now, Edison 
lived much within himself, and his face, when sending and receiving 
dispatches, wore the far-away look of the student and dreamer. He 
was not unpopular with his fellows, but by the most of them he 
was regarded as (< queer, B owing to his preoccupied air and his ex¬ 
periments in electrical science. The unmarried telegraphers of that 
day were true <( Bohemians, w who lived only in the present, with 
little thought for the morrow. Their leisure hours were spent after 
the manner of many young men who live in large cities, and they 
could not understand how Edison, himself a young man, could hold 
different views of life. 

It is evident that Edison could have had little in sympathy with 
the other operators, except the common vocation and that fraternal 
feeling which has always strongly existed among telegraphers. Yet 
his social side of life was fairly developed. He had at least the 
American appreciation of the ridiculous, and heartily enjoyed a good 
story. He was witty and given at times to punning; but these 
glimpses of his character were seen only at intervals. They 
appeared late at night, when the work was well up and the operators 
were waiting for <( good-night ® and the usual late supper before re¬ 
tiring. Edison cared nothing for late suppers or convivial pleasures 
of any kind. He had no vices, if his fondness for tobacco, which he 
chewed continually, be excepted. For him, drink, billiard playing, 
or society outside of the office, had no attractions. He was not a 
woman hater, for he has since been twice happily married, but-diffi¬ 
dence made association with women, at that formative period, pain¬ 
ful to him. It was bad enough if they were old and ugly, but if 


168 


THOMAS ALVA EDISON 



V 


young and pretty, as many of the visitors to the operating- room 
were, Edison would seek instant refuge in the battery room or other 
convenient place. Perhaps his fear of the sex was not entirely due 
to diffidence. His careless appearance may have had its influence, 
for that appearance was far from prepossessing. He was awkward and 
ungainly and always ill dressed. His clothes were worn until the 
rebellious trousers frayed at the ankles and insistently bagged 
at the knees. The coat kept its place by a single button, 
and the torn lining would display itself on the outside. 
His carelessness in dress made Edison the subject of sharp 
criticism from the more fastidious of his associates, and 
some of them socially boycotted him. On one occa¬ 
sion, several of the w dressy M young men complained to 
the night manager that Edison ought to be instructed to 
change his wardrobe or his job. The night manager, an 
amiable old gentleman, not too fastidious himself in the 
matter of dress, promised to speak to Edison, but it is not 
recorded that he did. 

As a matter of fact, the chiefs of departments concerned 
themselves little with the morals of their young men, and less 
'f\. • V with their personal appearance. The work in the office was 
heavy and expert operators were scarce. Edison was a clever op¬ 
erator and his habits were good, and this was enough to win him high 
esteem from his official superiors. It is too often the fashion, when men 
have become famous in some field of human activity, to endow them 
with unusual qualities during that period of their lives when they 
were laying the foundation of future greatness. Their boyish escapades 
are distorted into deeds of heroism, the smart sayings of childhood 
are exaggerated into great profundity of thought, and every little 
incident is given a dignity and importance beyond its original worth. 
But it is only simple truth to say that in this vocation, Edison had 
no superior. He brought to his work three necessary qualifications 
— excellent memory, rapid penmanship and sharp ears. Without 
these one cannot succeed in telegraphy. Rapid penmanship is not 
so necessary, now that the typewriter has taken the place of the pen 
in receiving, as it was in Edison’s day, when the typewriter did not 
exist. This also was before the invention of the duplex and the 
quadruplex instruments, which have doubled and quadrupled a wire’s 
capacity. There were fewer wires at that time, for this period of 
Edison’s life was shortly after the Civil War. If the limited facili¬ 
ties of the Western Union Company at that time be considered, the 
amount of business it handled was relatively as large as that of to¬ 
day, while the working force was relatively smaller. These condi- 




THOMAS ALVA EDISON 169 

tions necessitated great speed on important wires, and to such wires 
only the best talent could be assigned. 

During his six months’ service in Cincinnati, Edison received the 
Associated Press dispatches. He came on duty at half-past six in 
the evening and remained until (< good-night 0 was flashed from 
New York. If the weather was pleasant and the wires worked 

well, he finished usually at one o’clock. On rainy nights, when 
there was more or less escape of electricity, and the dots and 
dashes came faintly and indistinctly over the wires, (< good-night ” 
was delayed until the early morning. Once, a very bad night in 
December, Edison was relieved by the day operator, 
not having left his chair for fourteen hours. After 
an exhausting night’s work — and there is no work 
more exhausting than telegraphy — he would sleep 
for a few hours and awake with his energies quite 
restored. 

Edison left Cincinnati with an unusually fine 
record, and accepted an appointment in the West¬ 
ern Union Telegraph Office at Boston. In the New 
England metropolis he found, for the first time in —// 
his wandering life, congenial associations. The 
manager, George F. Milliken, was himself a distin¬ 
guished electrician; and there, too, he met Joseph B. 

Stearns, an inventor of note, and both helped to de¬ 
velop the budding qualities that later brought him into 
prominence. Before he left Cincinnati, Edison had 
given mtich thought to duplex telegraphy, a problem 
upon which the best minds of the telegraphic world were 
then engaged. It was reserved for Stearns to perfect the instru¬ 
ment that doubled the carrying capacity of a wire, and for Edison, 
a few years later, to make another forward step by inventing the 
quadruplex, which revolutionized the practice of telegraphic art. 

Yet Edison was to suffer many vicissitudes before the quadruplex, 
his first notable invention, should take definite form in his brain. 
Of the practicability of the duplex he had no doubt, and he foresaw 
that the quadruplex would logically grow out of it, as it did a few 
years later. Meanwhile he invented a vote-recording machine for 
legislative bodies, and a private-line printer, but, handicapped by 
poverty, he followed the usual course of inventors and sold the 
printer for a song. The tide in Edison’s affairs that bore him on 
to fame and fortune awaited him in New York, where, in 1870, he 
arrived penniless. Unsuccessful in finding employment with the com¬ 
mercial telegraph companies, he no doubt (< suffered not only for food 





17° 


THOMAS ALVA EDISON 



but for clothes, while he tramped the streets for a job,* as biog¬ 
raphers have told us. 

Chance took him one day into the office of Law’s Gold Reporting 
Telegraph Company. The instrument that reported the gold quota¬ 
tions was out of order and the inventor was in despair. Edison 
quickly discovered the source of trouble and the company immedi¬ 
ately employed him. This was the turning point in his career. His 
new employers, clever, up-to-date business men, recognized his talent 
and encouraged him to develop it. This he was not long in doing, 
and the original printer was soon discarded for one of Edison’s own 
invention. After a time he associated himself with the Gold and 
Stock Telegraph Company, of which General Marshall Lefferts was 
president. Here, again, under the stimulus of encouragement given 
him by General Lefferts, he invented several stock printers which 
the company decided to buy. This brought Edison into his first 
transaction of business, his knowledge of which was in the opposite 
ratio to his inventive genius. He hoped to receive an offer of five 
thousand dollars; yet it was but a hope, and half of that amount 
would have satisfied him. To his astonishment, the company offered 
him forty thousand dollars, and when a check for that amount was 
handed him, he was so ignorant of banking methods, that he could 
not cash it without assistance. 

With this money he opened a small workshop, where a number 
of printing telegraph machines were invented. Expanding busi¬ 
ness brought large pecuniary rewards, which were imme¬ 
diately invested in fresh experiments. In this respect 
Edison differed from ordinary inventors. He was not 
satisfied merely to earn money. For money, as money, 
he cared little, his personal wants being few and easily 
\ satisfied. But money was needed to widen the circle of 
his experiments, and he sought it for that reason. All 
this time he was living as plainly as in his younger days. 
He labored early and late, finding his pleasures in his 
laboratory and in consultation with his expert assistants. 
He developed remarkable powers of endurance, and it is re¬ 
corded that on one occasion he worked for sixty hours with¬ 
out sleep and almost without food, to perfect an instrument 
for which a purchaser was waiting. Then he slept for thirty- 
six hours and awoke for another long turn at the wheel. It 
has been well said that this ability to dispense with sleep and suste¬ 
nance, this swift power of recuperation, which can be found only in 
a physique the pure currents of which have never been vitiated by 
dissipation, are a potent argument for total abstinence. Edison’s 


THOMAS ALVA EDISON 


171 

severe and protracted labors owe their sustained brilliancy to no 
artificial stimulant, and nature finds it easy to repair the ravages 
inflicted by painful or continuous endeavor. 

During the first years of Edison’s work as inventor, he gave his 
efforts to improvements in telegraphy, and 1874 witnessed the birth 
of the quadruplex. This invention he sold to the Western Union 
Telegraph Company for a moderate sum, that was soon exhausted 
on the development of the octoplex, an instrument to transmit eight 
messages simultaneously over one wire. The use of the quadruplex, 
by lessening the expense of construction and repair, has added to 
the profit of the Western Union Telegraph Company probably a 
million dollars a year. 

Edison’s work of later years has been still along strictly electrical 
lines, the most notable exception being the phonograph, which he de¬ 
veloped from a mechanical toy into a useful business agency hardly 
less important than the typewriter. It is, however, the electric 
light and the telephone that have given Edison preeminence and made 
him many times a millionaire. He was not the original inventor of 
either, but he gave to both, especially the electric light, a commercial 
value. Until his improvements were made, electri 
lighting had not advanced far beyond the embryonic 
stage. It has been fairly said that at no time has 
Edison advanced a claim of original discovery in con¬ 
nection with the electric light; but he does claim, with 
undeniable justice, that by him the immature and 
scattered principles of his predecessors were per¬ 
fected, and welded into one symmetrical whole. 

Upon this point a biographer says: — 

<( In his hands the incandescent electric light was with¬ 
drawn from the fruitless seclusion of the laboratory and 
transferred to the plane of practical utility. From the 
costly toy, interwoven with intricate mechanical difficul¬ 
ties, and gifted with but a limited period of existence, it 
has become an all-important factor of public life, em¬ 
bodying the features of evenness, power and inexpensive¬ 
ness, which were so conspicuously lacking in former sys¬ 
tems. Not that we would deny the indispensable basis 
afforded by prior investigations, or the undeniable talent and 
energy displayed by former scientists: on the contrary, we are disposed 
to admit, in a large measure, the self-evident proposition advanced in our 
question. At the same time it may be maintained, that the very excel¬ 
lence of these methods enhanced the difficulties of Edison’s task, and threw 
into broader relief its superior merits. w 





THOMAS ALVA EDISON 


I 72 


Such, in brief, is a typical American career. It is that of a man 
starting from boyhood with only the advantages given him by nature, 
and by sheer force of will, self-denial and untiring energy, develop¬ 
ing his natural talent and becoming one of the master minds of the 
day. To his abstemious habits and simple mode of living, Edison’s 
success is largely due. Many men as brilliant as he have yielded to 
the fascinations of social life, and so wrecked a career that if prop¬ 
erly directed, might have rivaled that of the once obscure telegrapher. 
Edison’s life is an instructive object lesson to American youth, in 
showing what natural talent, backed by good moral standards and 
sustained by industry, may accomplish. His works are his monu¬ 
ments, and being inseparable from him, his fame will be as endur¬ 
ing as themselves. 

A lesson to be learned from the life of Edison is the success that 
comes to one who pursues a single, well-defined purpose — one in 
whom is (< no variableness, neither shadow of turning. w There is 
many a man whose brain is over-fertile, in which new ideas, in rapid 
succession, spring up and grow like plants in a hothouse. He fol¬ 
lows one of these ideas and applies his energies, for a time, to its 
development; then his mind is diverted to a new one and the other 
is laid aside, perhaps never again to be taken up. His genius may 
be brilliant, but its power is dissipated and destroyed by its fickle¬ 
ness. His conceptions may be original and valuable, but he lacks 
that power of concentration, of sustained effort, by which, alone, an 
idea is wrought out to a conclusion. There have been many such, 
whose prolific minds brought forth inventions, each of which con¬ 
tained the elements of success and fortune, but who have utterly 
failed, because of dissipation of effort. Happy the man whose clear¬ 
ness of perception enables him to decide upon the line of thought 
and labor for which he is best fitted, and who has the power to re¬ 
sist all diverting influences. He who has fixedness of purpose and 
steadfast perseverance rarely fails of the coveted reward. 


1 73 


JOHN ERICSSON 


Who revolutionized the navies of the world. 



A native of Sweden, who emigrated to America at the age of thirty- 
six, invented the circular, revolving metal turret, within which 
to operate the heavy guns of a war vessel. He first applied 
this principle in the construction of the little “Monitor,” the famous 
combat of which with the Confederate iron-plated steamer <( Merri- 
mac,” early in 1862, was the first battle between armor- 
protected vessels. The event awoke the naval engineers of 1 
the world and set them to thinking, and the result is the Jj 
great battleship of to-day, which combines the two ideas 
of the turreted “ Monitor ” and the armored <( Merri¬ 
ll! ac. ” 

John Ericsson, mechanical engineer and inventor, was 
born in Sweden, in 1803. He was a son of Olaf Erics¬ 
son, a large mine operator, and brother of Baron Nils 
Ericsson, colonel of engineers in the Swedish army 
and chief engineer of the railway system of that country. 

He first saw the light amidst mines and iron works, and 
the earliest sound to greet his ears was the clang of cumbersome 
machinery for hoisting coal out of the earth. He received a good 
education for the time, and while but a lad developed a rare taste 
and aptitude for mechanics. Before he was eleven years old, he had 
designed a sawmill and built a working model. During the next two 
or three years, he devised many ingenious contrivances for the im¬ 
provement of mining machinery, some of which were permanentlv 
adopted for their value. He showed such ability in engineering that, 
when but fourteen years of age, he was trusted to superintend the 
work of six hundred men on a section of the Gotha ship canal. Then 
young Ericsson entered the Swedish army. He made a series of 
military maps, which attracted so much attention for the skill and 
accuracy displayed that he was at once promoted to a lieutenant. He 
made a survey of northern Sweden, and did his work so well that it 
brought him a captaincy. At twenty-four he resigned from the army 
that he might devote his entire time and energies to mechanics. He 
built a condensing engine, which marked a step forward in the devel¬ 
opment of the means to apply steam power to the uses of man. His 



i74 


JOHN ERICSSON 


fertile mind seemed to know no rest. He was constantly making- im- 
provements in machinery for mining and other purposes, chiefly with 
reference to the more successful use of steam. In 1829 he competed 
with George Stephenson and others for the prize of five hundred 
pounds, which was offered for the best locomotive engine, by the 
Liverpool and Manchester Railway Company. The specifications re¬ 
quired a speed of not less than ten miles per hour. His engine, the 
<( Novelty, w made thirty miles an hour, but the decision was against 
him, as the judges decided to make traction power, rather than speed, 
the test, and the prize was awarded to Stephenson’s (< Rocket. ® Erics¬ 
son also invented a steam fire engine, for which he received a gold 
medal as a testimonial from the Mechanics’ Institute of New York. 

By far the most important invention to which Ericsson laid claim 
is the screw propeller for steam vessels, which revolutionized naviga¬ 
tion. His first experiment with the screw as a propelling device was 
on the River Thames, and its success was such that it attracted the 
attention of the mechanical world. His invention was protected by 
patents in Europe and America and came into immediate use. At 
this time Ericsson was urged to emigrate to the United States, and 
he did so in 1839. In 1841 he furnished to the government the de¬ 
signs for the screw war ship <( Princeton. w This was the first war 
vessel ever built with her propelling machinery below the water 
line, out of the reach of a hostile shot. So it was that he dictated 
the reconstruction of the navies of the world in the matter of pro¬ 
pulsion, as, years later, he produced the turret as an accessory of 
naval warfare, the possibilities of which are almost without limit; 
while his screw propeller laid the foundation for the steam merchant 
marine, to plow all the navigable waters of the world. Rarely in the 
history of mankind has a new idea in mechanics been so quickly and 
universally recognized and adopted. More than sixty of these vessels 
had been built before any attempt was made to evade the patent on 
the Ericsson screw. The invention which Ericsson called his <( pet w 
was a caloric engine, on which he experimented for twenty years. 
He intended this especially as a means for propelling vessels, and built 
the caloric ship (< Ericsson. w He did not succeed in the application 
of caloric as a motive power in navigation, but for mechanical uses, 
especially for running light machinery, it proved to be admirably 
adapted, and to-day tens of thousands of caloric engines, constructed 
on the Ericsson principle, are in use all over the world. 

As early as 1836, came to Ericsson the first idea that, twenty-five 
years later, developed into the historic war vessel <( Monitor . n The 
subject was much in his thoughts, and in 1854 he submitted to the Em¬ 
peror Napoleon a plan for a partially submerged, armored vessel, with 


JOHN ERICSSON 


1 75 


heavy guns in a cylindrical, shot-proof turret. The French monarch 
did not become sufficiently interested in the project to make a test 
of its practicability, and the inventor did nothing more until the Civil 
War in America opened wide the door of opportunity. In 1861 Erics¬ 
son laid his plan before the United States Government, which was 
then putting forth extraordinary exertions to increase its fighting 
power, on land and sea, by every means at command. Much doubt 
was entertained as to the feasibility of the project, but it was de¬ 
cided by naval experts that the idea was valuable enough to justify 
the experiment. Near the end of the year, the navy department com¬ 
missioned Ericsson to build a vessel in accordance with his plan. 
By the terms of the contract, he undertook to complete it within the 
wonderfully brief time of one hundred days. The keel was laid 
about the first of December. The work was pushed with prodigious 
energy, night and day, under the watchful eye of the inventor, who 
gave the most careful attention to every part of the construction, to 
the minutest detail. It is said of him that during the building of 
the <( Monitor ® he did not average more than four hours of sleep in 
each twenty-four. The vessel was launched at Greenpoint, New 
York, January 30, 1862, but much was yet to be done to finish and 
put in place her machinery and armament. No labor was spared to 
prepare her for service at the earliest possible day. Events in an¬ 
other quarter served as a spur to the utmost limit of human effort. 

In 1861, under the stress of Confederate operations against Nor¬ 
folk, Virginia, the United States Navy Yard at that place had been 
abandoned, and all the war vessels there had been burned or sunk 
by the retreating Federals. One of these was the Merrimac, w a 
40-gun screw frigate. Although her upper works had been destroyed, 
the hull was raised by the Confederates and found to be in good con¬ 
dition. On the midship section, a casemate of heavy timber, one 
hundred and seventy feet long, was built, and this was protected by 
a heavy iron plating, four inches thick, for which bars of railroad 
iron were used. The armored sides sloped sharply upward, on the 
theory that hostile shots, striking at an obtuse angle to the sloping 
surface, would not penetrate, but would ricochet or glance upward 
and pass harmlessly over the vessel. She was also fitted with a 
heavy iron prow, with a beak for the purpose of ramming. This was 
the first application of armor to a war ship. It was believed that the 
« Merrimac w would prove invincible against the wooden ships of the 
Federal navy and that, used as a ram, she could destroy them at 
will, and the Confederates built high hopes upon the exploits of 
which they believed her capable. The sequel showed that they had 
not overestimated her power. With no little apprehension, the 


JOHN ERICSSON 


176 

authorities at Washington had watched the progress of the work of 
converting the <( Merrimac w into an armored ram. In theory, and in 
fact, the United States had no ships that could successfully cope 
with the monster covered with railroad iron, and as a forlorn hope, 
all eyes turned to the (< Monitor,* which, fairly swarming with me¬ 
chanics, was rapidly assuming shape and form at Greenpoint. In 
February it began to be rumored that the finishing touches were be¬ 
ing put upon the (< Merrimac, * and that ere long she would sally 
forth on her mission of destruction. It was naturally believed that 
her attack would be made on the Federal fleet lying in the adjacent 
waters of Hampton Roads. Her name was changed to the (< Virginia , n 
but she very soon passed out of existence, and is almost universally 
known by her former name. 

On March 8 the <( Merrimac w steamed out of Norfolk, accompanied 
by one or two small steam vessels as tenders. She was commanded 
by Admiral Franklin Buchanan. The vessel proved to be unwieldy 
and difficult to manage, on account of the large added weight of 
armor, but this gave her a terrible momentum for effective ram¬ 
ming. As soon as she came within range of the Federal ships the 
action began. The guns of the latter had not the slightest effect on 
the w Merrimac. ® The sloping, plated sides of the casemate had 
been plentifully smeared with grease, and the shot and shell were 
deflected at the instant of striking, and did no more harm than if 
they had been pebbles. It was quickly demonstrated that the case¬ 
mate was impervious and the <( Merrimac w then boldly advanced on 
her prey. The frigate (< Cumberland * was rammed and crushed like 
an eggshell. She sank in a few minutes, carrying down nearly all 
her crew. The (< Congress, w another fine ship, was riddled and burned. 
The destroyer then drew off to make needed repairs and to prepare 
for finishing her work the following day. It is not difficult to imag¬ 
ine the prodigious excitement and alarm that the irruption of the 
(< Merrimac w created at Washington and throughout the North, and 
particularly along the Atlantic coast. At Baltimore and Philadel¬ 
phia, the fear of a devastating visit threw the people into a condi¬ 
tion bordering on panic. 

Two or three daj T s before, in anticipation of such an event, dis¬ 
patches had been sent from Washington ordering the <( Monitor, w 
which was ready to sail, to hasten with all speed to Hampton Roads. 
During that day of ravage by the (< Merrimac,® it was known that 
the (< Monitor ® was on the way, and the eagerness for tidings from 
her was excessive. The ® Monitor” may be briefly characterized as 
a floating battery. She consisted of an iron hull, covered by a pro¬ 
jecting iron deck, which was almost awash. Above the deck there 


JOHN ERICSSON 


1 77 


was nothing except the great iron turret, and the small essentials of 
pilot house, smokestack and air funnels. The crew lived and worked 
below the water line. Within the turret were two guns of the 
heaviest caliber. The slow revolution of the turret enabled the 
gunners to discharge the pieces alternately — one being loaded while 
the other was being aimed and fired. The nondescript craft was an 
object of the greatest curiosity to the public, especially to nautical 
men, and her departure from New York was witnessed by a multi¬ 
tude of people. A popular and not inapt description of her appear¬ 
ance is contained in the phrase (< a cheese box on a raft.® She 
departed with the prayers and good wishes of all, but there were 
few in that crowd who believed that she would live to reach her 
destination, or that, if she did, she would prove formidable as an en¬ 
gine of war. Most seafaring men predicted that she would go to 
the bottom as soon as she should get <( outside ® and experience 
heavy weather. She was commanded by Lieutenant John Lorimer 
Worden, an officer of high courage and capacity. 

The (< Monitor® reached Fortress Monroe, in Hampton Roads, 
without mishap, in the evening of March 8, the day of the <( Merri- 
mac's ® raid upon the Federal fleet. It. was not doubted that the 
Confederate destroyer would resume operations at dawn and the 
“Monitor® was put in order for action. Early on the ninth, full of 
courage born of the previous day’s achievements, the “ Merrimac ® 
advanced to the attack, choosing the frigate ® Minnesota ® as the ob¬ 
ject of the first assault. Then it was that the little <( cheese box * 
appeared on the scene and threw down the gage of battle to 
its giant adversary. It was like David going forth to meet 
Goliath, and the result was much the same. The Confederate 
commander at first affected to despise the presumptuous 
little craft, but he soon changed his opinion and found 
it necessary to devote to it his entire attention. It 
is true that the guns of neither made much im¬ 
pression on the other. Most of the shots which 
struck the “ Merrimac ® glanced from its sloping, 
tallowed sides, while of the “ Monitor ® there was 
nothing to shoot at but the turret, and from it the 
missiles of the “ Merrimac ® were instantly deflected. 

The battle lasted a good part of the day. The plucky (< Monitor ® 
clung to its antagonist with the utmost tenacity. Its persistence was 
rewarded by finding a vulnerable point, and a fortunate shot so 
crippled the machinery of the ® Merrimac ® that she was forced to 
give up the fight and steam back to Norfolk as best she could. 
The casualties were few. The most serious on the <( Monitor® fell 



I — 12 




JOHN ERICSSON 


178 

to Lieutenant Worden, her commander. He was looking through a 
conning hole in the turret, when a shot from the (< Merrimac J) chanced 
to strike the spot. From the force of the concussion and from in¬ 
jury by a fragment of iron, his eyesight was for a time entirely de¬ 
stroyed. He was blind for several years, but his sight was at length 
partially restored, by a surgical operation. 

The (< Monitor ® had nobly justified the confidence of her inventor. 
Her praises, and those of Worden and his crew and of Ericsson, 
were sung loudly and long and in many keys. Government officials 
and citizens by thousands flocked to Fortress Monroe to view the 
curious little vessel that had borne herself so gallantly. Those two 
days of fighting in Hampton Roads comprised the entire career of 
the (< Merrimac. ® Soon afterward, the Union flag again floated over 
Norfolk. When the Confederates retired, they blew up and destroyed 
the huge vessel. The United States Government immediately or¬ 
dered the construction of vessels of the <( Monitor H type, and before 
the war ended the number in service had reached sixty. Experi¬ 
ence has proved that they are not good sea vessels, being cumber¬ 
some and slow sailers, but for harbor and coast duty they are 
formidably effective. The original (< Monitor w had a short life. 
Bearing the honorable scars of the memorable combat in Hampton 
Roads, she went to the bottom off Cape Hatteras, during a severe 
gale, near the end of 1862. 

Mr. Ericsson lived till 1889, full of honors. He received the 
thanks of Congress, medals from scientific, mechanical and other as¬ 
sociations, and decorations and orders of merit from many foreign 
governments. The people of his native town, in Sweden, erected, 
in 1867, a massive monument to commemorate what he had done for 
the world. During the latter years of his life he projected a war 
vessel, to be nearly submerged, for submarine warfare, but he did 
not bring it into practical use. For a quarter of a century he lived, 
a widower and childless, in the house in which he died, in New 
York. His body was sent to Sweden by the United States Govern¬ 
ment, on one of the naval cruisers, and his burial was an occasion of 
great public solemnity. 


179 


DAVID GLASGOW FARRAGUT 


Lashed in the maintop of the « Hartford* at Mobile. 



W hatever our expanding navy may find to do, and may achieve, 
in the struggle of the nations for that sea power over which 
the naval writer, Mahan, has cast such a glamour, it will not 
be in any short time that the first to be made an American admiral 
will be lowered to the second place in our naval galaxy. In Farragut 
we possessed a Nelson, skilled in all the arts of the naval 
profession, of unvarying detail, quick resource, calculated 
daring, inspiring demeanor, and that sustained courage 
which, quailing not at sudden danger, pressed on to 
safety and success. Despite the popular splendor 
with which the combats of the Nile and Trafalgar 
are invested, Copenhagen was the battle that put 
Nelson to the highest test and exercise of qualities, 
and in Copenhagen we find the nearest parallel to 
that (< August day with Farragut w in Mobile Bay. To 
have been less than Nelson, at New Orleans or Mobile, 
would have meant failure to Farragut. 


From midshipman to admiral, Farragut was sixty years in the 
naval service, and was engaged in three wars; yet a small number 
of hours would cover the whole time that he was actually under fire. 
This does not mean that naval glory is won quickly, but that it is 
won by long training and careful preparation for those brief periods 
of emergency that compass the actual duration of conflicts. It was 
said of Nelson that if he had not been a famous admiral, he would 
have made an excellent pilot. So it might be said of Farragut, that 
if he had not been an excellent commander, he would have made 
a good boatswain. In the great days of both, the secret of their 
unbounded influence was the fact that the men in the forecastle 
knew that they were familiar with every duty aboard ship, so 
that their special qualifications for the top place were a clear addi¬ 
tion to the sum of ordinary knowledge. Through his whole profes¬ 
sional life, Farragut skipped nothing and slurred nothing. 

Farragut, born in Tennessee of a Spanish father and an Ameri¬ 
can mother, was brought up at New Orleans. A family friendship 
there with the celebrated Commodore David Porter, the elder, caused 


I 



DAVID GLASGOW FARRAGl'T 


) 80 

the latter to rate his young namesake as a <( middy w while un¬ 
der the age of ten, and nearly four years later he was with Porter 
in the desperate fight of the (< Essex w with the British war ships 
in Valparaiso harbor. There, as President Madison told Congress, 
<( humanity tore down the colors that valor had nailed to the mast¬ 
head, * and Porter lost no glory by the loss of his ship. Young 
Farragut, who Porter said had behaved handsomely, had before him 
a standard of conduct on that dreadful day which he never forgot. 

He had a little employment in the Mexican War, and in 1855 
reached the grade of captain, after forty-five years of service. He 
had been much on duty at Norfolk, had married there, and was 
there awaiting orders when the Civil War broke out. As a Southern 
man, he was expected to join the Confederate cause, but he refused 
and was obliged to move with his family to the North, to escape 
disagreeable reproaches. The policy of the Navy Department, at 
first, was to keep loyal Southern officers on shore duty, in preference 
to sending them to fight against their own people; but when the 
expedition against New Orleans was projected, and its formidable 
character realized, there was a feeling that Farragut was the one man 
to command it, provided he had no scruple about the nature or place 
of the duty. He had none, and his appointment was joyfully made. 

Nature made the Mississippi a weak strain in the fabric of the 
Confederacy, and when the Federals neglected their seemingly abund¬ 
ant means of controlling it from end to end of the insurrection 
limits, the Confederates, realizing their good fortune, made haste to 
convert it by fortifications into a closed waterway. Not until the 
Navy Department had made some progress on the enormous line of 
ocean and gulf blockade, and had met the earlier requisitions of the 
War Department for assistance in establishing military positions on 
the coast of the two Carolinas, was it able to give attention to a 
project for the reduction of New Orleans, a city too large and re¬ 
sourceful to be left at the service of the Confederacy. But that 
which anybody easily could have done at the outbreak of the war, 
was the hard task set for Farragut a year later. 

New Orleans lies in a pocket of the river, far up from the passes 
leading in from the Gulf of Mexico, and, though provided with bat¬ 
teries at Chalmette, a few miles below, its real defenses were the 
two forts, Jackson and St. Philip, about a third of the way up from 
the Gulf. Fort Jackson was on the south side and Fort St. Philip 
on the north side of an east-and-west bend of the river. Fort Jack- 
son was a large, strongly built stone fort, heavily armed, with all 
modern appliances, and flanked on the east by a water battery hav¬ 
ing a great sweep down the river. Fort St. Philip was a very strong 


DAVID GLASGOW FARRAGUT 


iSl 


open work of brick and stone, roomy and of great range, carrying- 
fifty heavy guns to seventy-two of the principal fort. Piled sand 
bags at Jackson and thick sodding at St. Philip further strengthened 
the work. Each fort had a fair garrison and was well stocked and 
equipped for a siege, being considered proof against naval attack. 
Just in front of Fort Jackson was a boom of logs and hulks of ves¬ 
sels, closing the passage of the river. 

A little above Fort St. Philip, toward New Orleans, was moored 
the unfinished ironclad <( Louisiana. w The rest of the naval force 
consisted of the ironclad ram (( Manassas,* the small wooden steamer 
“McRea,® the smaller steamer (< Jackson, w two howitzer launches, 
two Louisiana state boats, converted from coasting steamers, and 
six powerful converted tugboats. The state gunboats and the tug¬ 
boats had some iron plating at the bows, and some machinery and 
boiler protection. There were also some fire rafts. It was a sort of 
junk-shop fleet; yet, skillfully handled as a unit, it might have proved 
formidable. But a Confederate naval commander only reached New 
Orleans four days before the fight; the steamboat captain in com¬ 
mand of the tugboat squadron paid no attention to his orders; there 
were but few seamen, wholly without discipline; and delay, neglect 
and bungling in the Navy Department at Richmond had left almost 
everything unprovided, unfinished and unsettled. Out of fourteen 
vessels of all kinds, with forty guns, only four vessels and twelve 
guns rendered any service. 

Farragut’s task was to pass the forts and capture New Orleans. 
Before he came into command, a fleet of mortar boats had been pro¬ 
vided, as though the forts were to be reduced before proceeding to 
the city. The mortars bombarded Fort Jackson before and after the 
passage, and did some damage, but they were not necessary to Far¬ 
ragut’s intended operation. Farragut had five first-class steam sloops, 
three second-class sloops, and nine steam gunboats with which to 
attempt the passage. These were good, regular war vessels, well offi¬ 
cered, well manned, heavily armed, well fitted, and under excellent 
discipline — in short, a powerful and effective squadron for that time. 
Farragut was close upon sixty-one, but actually in his prime; a strong 
but pleasant-faced man; grand looking, but full of joviality; driving 
with energy; firm as adamant; as able and swift, and as eager, if 
discipline had permitted, at turning a handspring or climbing the 
braces, as the most active of his crew. He loved to show the young¬ 
sters his quick, smart way of doing things, and, abounding in vitality, 
he was always an animated and cheering figure. Nature had not 
slighted the outer man in cutting him out for a hero, and time had 
dealt gently with him in the long waiting. 


182 


DAVID GLASGOW FARRAGUT 


The Navy Department had contemplated a reduction of the forts 
before an attempt should be made upon the city. After two days of 
mortar firing, Farragut summoned all his accessible captains to his 
flagship, the “Hartford,” and told them he was going to pass the 
forts. When that was done, he would stop and fight it out, if that 
would leave him still strong enough to reach the city. Some objected 
to leaving unconquered forts behind, thus cutting them off from their 
base of supplies. The commander of the mortar fleet objected to being 
left below, but Farragut declined to hamper his fighting ships by 
towing the mortar schooners. He closed debate by saying that the 
ammunition supply was too low for further delay, and they must either 
act at once or go back into the Gulf and become mere blockaders. 
That night the boom across the river was broken by two of the gun¬ 
boats, aided by a heavy mortar fire. 

The passage had to be along the left bank of the river, bringing 
the vessels close under the guns of Fort Jackson. At a quarter be¬ 
fore three, on the morning of April 24, 1862, the leading ship came 
under fire. In less than an hour and a quarter it was all over and 
Farragut was under way for New Orleans. The flagship was set on 
fire by a blazing raft which drifted against her, but there was no 
cessation of the action; the firemen simply went to their stations 
and, after a critical time of doubt and peril, put out the fire. One 
gunboat was lost and some other vessels were injured by being 
rammed, but only thirty-seven men were killed and one hundred and 
forty-seven wounded by the fire of all the forts and Confederate ves¬ 
sels. 

Words cannot describe the amazement, consternation and panic 
that prevailed in New Orleans, when it became known that the Fed¬ 
eral fleet had passed the forts and within a few hours would reach 
the city. Up to that moment the people had believed the city safe, 
assured by the Confederate officers that the forts could not be re¬ 
duced and that they were an absolute barrier to the passage of the 
hostile ships. Such was the sense of security, that scarcely anything 
had been done to guard the approaches with batteries and earth¬ 
works. There were at hand only a few companies of raw soldiers, 
scarcely organized, and these scampered away when Farragut arrived 
and trained his guns upon the city. To the demand for its surren¬ 
der but one answer was possible, and it was given without the delay 
of a moment. The stars and stripes were planted upon the public 
buildings, and the Confederate flag never again floated over the chief 
city of the South. As soon as New Orleans had been taken, the gar¬ 
risons of Fort Jackson and St. Philip refused to defend them longer, 
and they were surrendered to the mortar fleet. Farragut stayed in 


DAVID GLASGOW FARRAGUT 183 

the Mississippi several months, running- the Confederate batteries at 
Vicksburg, up the river and then down. 

The loss of New Orleans had gradually raised Mobile to high 
Confederate importance, and in January, 1864, Farragut was busy 
with plans for the capture of the harbor. Rams and ironclads were 
building there, and he wished to catch them unfinished. But he 
needed five thousand men from the army, and he could not get 
them. When the ram (< Tennessee ” was completed and in commission, 
Farragut’s wooden fleet in the Gulf was in great peril, and he pite¬ 
ously begged the Navy Department to spare him one ironclad. He 
also promised not to run away from the ram, if he got no ironclad. 
But anxiety and sleeplessness, and agitation over the once-detested 
(< teakettles” and torpedoes, were aging the hero, and he no longer 
chaffed the young men about turning handsprings. But at the be¬ 
ginning of August, 1864, a division of troops was landed on an 
island in Mobile Bay, and three ironclads were with him and an¬ 
other was on the way. Then he grew young again, his bantering 
joviality returned, his smooth-shaven face grew ruddy once more, 
and he took to showing everybody, from w powder-monkey * to deck 
officer, how to do things according to the standard of the United 
States navy. 

On the afternoon of August 4, Farragut assembled his captains on 
a steam tender, and they ran up the bay and took a careful look at 
Fort Morgan, a magnificent work, grandly armed; at the (< Tennessee,” 
apparently the most powerful war ship afloat; and at three beautiful 
gunboats. Across the narrow channel was a bed of sunken tor¬ 
pedoes. Because of these deadly torpedoes, Farragut proposed to 
take the lead with the flagship, but his captains protested against 
the risk of losing the commander in the midst of the fight, and he 
had to yield. So the lead fell to the (< Brooklyn,” that vessel being 
provided with torpedo-catching apparatus. 

At a quarter before six on the morning of August 5, 1864, the 
fleet, detained for hours by a dense fog, got under way. It was a 
hot, midsummer day. The four ironclads were in advance and to 
the right, where the fort lay. The wooden ships were lashed in 
pairs, a sloop to a gunboat, for better security. The ironclads were 
very slow vessels, and soon the <( Brooklyn ” came right upon them 
and began backing, threatening to throw the rearward ships into 
collision and to drift some of them with the tide to the shore, under 
the fort. The leading monitor drew out of the line to get more 
room and was instantly blown up by a torpedo and destroyed, with 
all but a very few of her company. Still the (< Brooklyn ” was blocked 
by the remaining monitors and dared not draw out to the left, for fear 


iS 4 


DAVID GLASGOW FARRAGUT 


of meeting the fate of the destroyed monitor. Meantime, the fleet 
was at a dead stand and suffering from the fire of the fort. 

As the smoke of the battle obscured the deck, Farragut ascended 
the rigging for a clearer view. The smoke rose and he went higher, 
till he was not far from the maintop. To prevent his falling 
to the deck if wounded, the captain sent a seaman up 
to fasten him to the rigging by a line, an act of 
thoughtfulness that the Admiral appreciated. Out 
of this incident grew the absurd story of (< Far¬ 
ragut lashed to the shrouds,” as though he had 
purposely selected the rigging for his station and 
caused himself to be clamped there, in the manner 
of a spread eagle. 

The blowing up of the monitor and the stoppage 
of the (< Brooklyn” held the fleet fast under the 
guns of the fort for nearly a quarter of an hour. 
Then, as the least of evils, Farragut turned the flag¬ 
ship, “Hartford,” and her lashed gunboat out of the 
line to the left and forged to the front. As they 
came alongside the “ Brooklyn w and her consort, 
the warning cry of (< Torpedoes ahead!” was passed 
to the Admiral, who shouted in reply: *' Damn the tor¬ 
pedoes, go ahead! ” Officers and men on deck heard 
the fuses snap as they were struck by the ship’s bottom, but 
no torpedo exploded. The same good fortune attended the <( Rich¬ 
mond ” and her consort, which boldly followed the flagship’s lead. 
The blockade was now broken, but one of the trim Confederate gun¬ 
boats kept just ahead of the flagship and riddled her severely. At 
length the fast gunboat attached to the flagship was cut loose, chased 
the saucy Confederate far up the harbor, and brought her to a sur¬ 
render. 

The “ Tennessee ” was lying in wait above the fort, to make havoc 
with the wooden ships, as Buchanan, the admiral on board, had done 
with the helpless wooden fleet in Hampton Roads, more than two 
years before. She now came down past the flagship to the vessels 
below, but, failing to ram any of them, returned to the harbor. 
Then she started again, making straight for the flagship, to whose 
relief the ironclads and wooden ships swiftly gathered. She could 
have struck the “ Hartford ” full in the bow, but would have been 
wedged in and carried down with her victim; she therefore bore off 
a little and struck a glancing blow, which did no great harm. But 
the “Hartford” received from one of her sister ships a smashing 
blow intended for the enemy, and in the moment when she was 




DAVID GLASGOW FARRAGUT 


i»5 

supposed to be going down, all thoughts turned one way and the cry 
went up, M Save the Admiral! » The (< Tennessee ” was weak in engine 
power, for her machinery had been taken from a coasting 
steamer, and she could neither maneuver nor ram with 
proper force; nor had she the speed to escape from the 
great fleet into which she had defiantly come. Buchanan 
was wounded and helpless, but the captain continued the 
fight gallantly till the rudder chains were shot away, and 
then, with Buchanan’s consent, and to save his men from 
useless drowning and slaughter, he struck his flag. 

As for Fort Morgan, it was besieged by the army and, 
in due time, surrendered. One, only, of the three gunboats 
escaped. Mobile was lost to the Confederacy as a blockade ru 
ning port, and the loss was severely felt. 

The dramatic character of the battle of Mobile Bay sent the story 
of it round the world, and everywhere in Europe the name of Farragut 
was enrolled in the list of great admirals. As soon as matters were 
set to rights after the battle, he obtained his relief from command, 
being enfeebled from his continuous service of more than two and 
a half years, and especially by the arduous duty along the Missis¬ 
sippi for many months after the capture of New Orleans, and by the 
anxious months spent off the harbor of Mobile. 

In 1866 Congress created for him the full grade of admiral, and 
in 1867 the U. S. S. (< Franklin” was handsomely fitted out and 
manned, and in her he made a special cruise to the principal ports 
of Europe. By all classes he was cordially received, and the story of 
Farragut and Mobile Bay was retold in print in all the languages 
of Europe. Abroad, as at home, he could no more get away from 
the tale of his lashing to the shrouds, than could General Sherman 
from the tune, (< Marching through Georgia.” When questioned, he 
would good naturedly explain that there were three lashings: first, 
when the seaman lashed him; next, when he went a little higher 
and passed the line himself a few times around his body; and, lastly, 
after the fort had been passed and he had gone again into the rig¬ 
ging to direct the fight with the (< Tennessee,” when one of the officers 
had made him fast. By invitation, he made a festival visit to his 
father’s birthplace in Minorca, and renewed the ties of kinship by 
addressing his friends and relatives in good Spanish. His cruise was 
of some public service, for it was the occasion of many official ex¬ 
pressions of regard for his country and government. After his return, 
he lived in retirement till his death on August 14, 1870, after passing 
his sixty-ninth year. 







186 


CYRUS WEST FIELD 


Whose pluck gave to the world the Atlantic cable. 

« r never saw Cyrus so uneasy as when he was trying to keep still,® 
was said of Cyrus W. Field by one of his brothers. This is an 
index to a leading trait in the character of one who made all 
mankind his debtor—one whom the world will not forget. Morse, 
who invented the telegraph, first conceived the idea of a 
cable, laid upon the ocean’s bed, through which mes¬ 
sages might be flashed with the quickness of thought 
from one continent to another. But it was Field who 
grasped the idea as something real—something that 
the world needed, that could actually be done. His keen 
intelligence gave form to the enterprise, and his stead- 
fast perseverance, in the face of difficulties and discour¬ 
agements such as few men could face without flinching, 
inspired it with vigorous life. Twelve years he labored before 
success came. His pluck won the admiration of men; his hard- 
earned triumph commanded their willing homage. 

Cyrus W. Field was born at Stockbridge, Massachusetts, in 1819, 
and was a member of a distinguished family. He was a son of 
David Dudley Field, an eminent clergyman, whose father was Cap¬ 
tain Timothy Field, a soldier of the Revolution. The brothers of 
Cyrus were David Dudley Field, a learned jurist of New York; 
Stephen J. Field, a justice of the United States Supreme Court; and 
Henry M. Field, a celebrated clergyman. 

Cyrus was the only one of the four brothers who did not receive 
a college education. As a boy he was bright, active and restless, 
always impatient to be doing something. When his head and hands 
were not otherwise employed, they were pretty sure to be in mis¬ 
chief. It was his controlling desire to do that kept him from going 
to college; he felt that he could not spare the time. This habit of 
mind became even more marked when, as a man, he entered upon 
the activities of a busy life. 

At fifteen young Field left home and went to New York to seek 
his fortune. His first employment was in the dry-goods store of A. 
T. Stewart, at fifty dollars a year. Very small wages, but it was a 
start that he wanted; he believed he could do the rest. Before he 
was of age he had gone into business for himself, as a manufacturer 




CYRUS WEST FIELD 


187 


of paper, and in a few years he became the head of a prosperous 
firm. Throughout his long life he was successful in whatever he 
undertook. When he made up his mind to do a thing, he dashed 
aside or surmounted every obstacle until his purpose was accom¬ 
plished. He had large manufacturing and commercial interests which 
commanded his best efforts. These suffered during the years when 
his energies were diverted to the great project of his life. Partly 
in consequence of this, he passed through severe business reverses, 
which to many men would have been beyond retrieval. But when 
he fell, he was clever enough to (< alight upon his feet,” to use a 
popular phrase, and, without repining, he set his face toward the 
work of recovery. In his last years, however, when age had im¬ 
paired his powers, a financial storm swept away his property and 
left him almost penniless. 

On his return from a trip to South America, in the early fifties, 
he became interested in the momentous work with which his name 
will ever be linked in the history of great enterprises. By chance 
he met a citizen of Canada who had planned the laying of a tele¬ 
graph cable between the island of Newfoundland and the main 
land. The project was to connect the cable with an overland tele¬ 
graph line extending from New York, and thus anticipate by several 
days the news and important business communications brought from 
Europe by steamers, which touched first at Newfoundland upon their 
westward voyages. Financial aid was needed for the enter¬ 
prise and Mr. Field was approached on the subject. He 
remembered that he had heard Mr. Morse express belief 
that an Atlantic cable to Europe was easily possible, and 
that sometime one would be laid. (< Why not now ? ” said 
Mr. Field to himself. The question fixed itself upon his 
mind and his resolute will found the answer, (< It can and 
shall be done.” 

Mr. Field had no difficulty in enlisting the aid of sev- *ijjP \ • 
eral wealthy and public-spirited men of New York, and 
a company was formed with Peter Cooper, the philan¬ 
thropist, as its president. Mr. Field then went to Newfoundland, 
where he secured the necessary grant for the overland line across 
the island. Six hundred men were put upon the work of construc¬ 
tion, for the route was through a dense forest, a distance of four 
hundred miles. 

While this work was in progress, Mr. Field went to England — the 
first of more than a score of voyages which he made to Europe dur¬ 
ing twelve years of experiment and failure. He found ready ears in 
Great Britain — statesmen, scientists and men of business — to listen 







188 


CYRUS WEST FIELD 



to the details of the new and startling project. Some doubted, others 
declared it to be but the whim of a disordered brain, but there were 
many who believed in it, who gave to it their influence and later 

their financial support, and whose faith failed not 
until, after a long season of sore trial, the goal was 
reached. 

Forty years later the genius and skill of Ameri¬ 
can mechanics led the world, but at this time they 
had only just entered the field of scientific metal¬ 
working. It was, therefore, deemed necessary that 
the cable should be made in England. Mr. Field 
completed arrangements for this to be done, and in¬ 
cluded a short cable to be laid across the Gulf of 
St. Lawrence, to connect the sections of the overland 
portion of the line. In the construction of the cable, 

much had to be learned by experience. Those made 

during the costly experimental stage of the enterprise were too small, 
and lacked the strength to bear the strain of their own weight and 

the action of a stormy sea. It was to this that the repeated parting 

of the first cables was due. The short cable for the Gulf of St. 
Lawrence arrived in due time, but disaster came at the very outset. 
Forty miles had been paid out, when stress of weather made it neces¬ 
sary to cut the cable in order to save the vessel. Another cable, 
larger than the first, was afterward successfully laid. 

"While the work of making the long Atlantic cable was in progress, 
a survey was made of the ocean bed, by means of soundings, to find 
the most favorable route. The British government gave evidence of 
its interest in the project by offering the use of one of its vessels for 
that purpose. It was, of course, desirable that the shortest route be 
selected, and this was found to be between the west coast of Ireland 
and the eastern point of Newfoundland, both in British territory. 
The survey showed that this part of the ocean bed is a high and 
nearly level table of land, which extends nearly the entire distance. 
This is now known as the great telegraph plateau. 

English capitalists were quick to become interested in the cable 
project and a company was formed with a capital stock of ,£350,000, 
of which Mr. Field subscribed one-fourth. The British government 
also gave hearty assurance of support. Lord Clarendon asked Mr. 
Field: <( Suppose you make the attempt and fail — your cable lost in 
the sea — what then ?” (< Charge it to profit and loss and make an¬ 

other, ® was the ready reply. It had the (< Yankee ring,” and so 
pleased the Briton that he pledged his best efforts in behalf of the 
project, and continued its steadfast friend and supporter. 


CYRUS WEST FIELD 


I 89 


Mr. Field next returned to America and went to Washington to 
seek the aid of Congress. He did not ask financial assistance, but re¬ 
quested that the government should furnish one of its vessels to be 
used in laying the cable. A bill was drawn by William H. Seward, 
of New York, authorizing the use of a naval vessel for the purpose. 
It was entitled (< An act to expedite telegraphic communication for the 
use of the government in its foreign intercourse.” A letter from the 
New York, Newfoundland and London Telegraph Company was pre¬ 
sented to Congress, in which were set forth the advantages that would 
result to the government and to the people. It stated that England 
would furnish a ship and urged that the United States do the same, 
(< so that the glory of accomplishing what has been justly styled the 
crowning enterprise of the age, may be divided between the greatest and 
freest governments on the face of the globe.” It is difficult, in these 
later years, to believe that opposition to the bill was so strong that it nar¬ 
rowly escaped defeat. In the House it had a safe majority of nineteen, 
but it passed the Senate by a single vote. It was approved by Presi¬ 
dent Pierce, March 3, 1857, the day before his retirement from office. 

Returning at once to England, Mr. Field found the cable nearly 
finished. The U. S. S. (< Niagara” soon arrived, the cable was coiled 
on board, and the vessel sailed slowly away from the Irish coast, pay¬ 
ing out the cable astern, while a multitude of people with loud huz¬ 
zas bade the ship Godspeed. On the sixth day out, when three 
hundred and thirty-five miles had been laid, the cable parted. Air. 
Field, who was on board, at once ordered the ship to 
return to England. While others were bewailing 
the misfortune, Mr. Field, who had no time for 
regrets, was arranging for sufficient new cable to 
replace that which had been lost. <( We are go¬ 
ing to try again!” he said. ^ 

For the second attempt, two vessels were em¬ 
ployed, the a Niagara ” and her Majesty’s ship 
<( Agamemnon. ” Half of the cable was placed on 
each and the vessels sailed in company to the mid 
way point. The cable was spliced and the ships started 
in opposite directions. When a little more than a hundred miles had 
been paid out, the cable gave way and the ships were forced to return 
to England. Mr. Field was called to London to meet the directors 
of the company, some of whom had lost faith and favored an aban¬ 
donment of the project. He, however, was undaunted, and his de¬ 
termination carried a majority with him. 

The third attempt was briefly successful. The cable was laid and 
tests showed it to be in working order. The good tidings and the 




CYRUS WEST FIELD 


I 90 

interchange of messages electrified the people of the two continents. 
Queen Victoria and President Buchanan exchanged greetings of con¬ 
gratulation. The people celebrated the event with cannon, bands, 
bonfires, dinners and speeches. Mr. Field was overwhelmed with 
compliments and honors. But on the very day that the city of New 
York was paying him homage, the cable flashed for the last time and 
went to sleep forever. Again, while two nations mourned, Mr. Field 
went to work, with a courage that rose to the sublime. This time the 
entire cable had been lost. Would he be able to make another ? At 
least he would try. 

A new cable, much larger and more costly than either of the 
others, was prepared and stowed in the capacious hold of the (< Great 
Eastern,” the largest ship that had yet been built. Starting from 
Newfoundland, all went well until six hundred miles of cable had 
been run out, when there was another break. Efforts were made to 
grapple the severed cable, but in vain, and with sorrowing hearts on 
board, the big ship sailed to England. 

A vast sum of money had been sunk and most of the stockholders 
of the company would pay no more. But at the magic inspiration 
of Field, a new company was formed and the work went forward. 
Again the cable was completed, and again the (< Great Eastern ” sailed 
upon her mission. The start was made on Friday, and the fact that 
this voyage was the triumphant one of the series, would seem to re¬ 
buke a popular superstition. On the twenty-seventh of July, 1866, 
the end of the cable was landed at Heart’s Content, Ireland, and Mr. 
Field sent to his home across the sea this message:— ' 

(< Arrived here at nine o’clock this morning, all well. Thank God the 
cable is laid and is in perfect working order.” 

Once more there was a popular outburst of joy, and this time no 
disappointment followed. The history of human effort presents no 
more illustrious example of success nobly won by the patient, reso¬ 
lute pursuit of a lofty purpose. 

Toward the close of his active life, Mr. Field wrote to a young 
friend the following advice, which may be read and remembered with 
profit:— 

<( Be brief, time is very valuable. Punctuality, honesty and brevity are 
the watchwords of life. Never write a long letter. A business man has 
not time to read it. If you have anything to say, be brief. There is no 
business so important that it can’t be told on one sheet of paper. Brevity 
is a rare gift, and punctuality has made many a man’s fortune. If you 
make an appointment, be sure and keep it and be on time; no man of 
business can afford to lose a moment in these busy times.” 


■ 9 1 


MILLARD FILLMORE 


Who filled a vacant chair at the White House. 

M illard Fillmore, who, by the death of Zachary Taylor, July 9, 
1850, became thirteenth President of the United States, was 
born in Cayuga County, New York, February 7, 1800. He was 
descended from a good English family, which had been for some 
generations settled in America, but at the time of his birth the Fill¬ 
more fortunes were at a low ebb. His father, Nathaniel Fillmore, 
had lost a considerable portion of his property, and had 
taken up his residence pn an unimproved farm. Then 
began a combat with nature for the bare necessaries 
of life, and the boy grew up to take a full share in the 
fight. 

In his boyhood, Millard worked nine months of the 
year on the farm and in the clearing; the remaining 
three months he spent attending such schools as the place 
afforded. Education was a difficult fruit to pluck in those 
days. His father and mother taught him the rudiments 
of learning, but the Fillmore library consisted of but two 
a Bible and a hymn book. With the exception of a die 
which he acquired when he was fourteen years old, not another book 
of consequence came under his eye until he was a youth of nineteen. 
Shakespeare, history, and all the vast realm of literature, were un¬ 
known to him. Not even a map of the United States did he see 
until that time. And it was this man who afterward became re¬ 
markable for his love and reverent appreciation of all that was best 
in books. 

Nathaniel Fillmore’s meager success in farming caused him to 
cast about for a more promising occupation for his son. Too poor to 
fit him for a profession, he sent him, when fourteen years of age, 
to learn the trade of carding wool and dressing cloth. Millard was 
apprenticed for a term of years, but an unjust master caused him to 
suffer so greatly that one day the young apprentice, having had a 
bitter quarrel with his master, packed his little belongings in a bun¬ 
dle and started to walk to his father’s home, through one hundred 
miles of primeval forest. Later he resumed his trade, and it was at 
this time that he bought his dictionary, which he propped open be¬ 
fore him and studied as he worked. 




f 

192 . MILLARD FILLMORE 

At nineteen he formed a determination to study law. With a 
promissory note for thirty dollars, and agreeing to forego the wages 
of his last year, he bought the balance of his <( bound w time from 
his employer and then gave his services to a lawyer in exchange for 
board and such knowledge as he could pick up. In the evenings he 
taught school to earn money for books and other necessaries. In 1823 
he was admitted to the bar and began practice at Aurora, whither 
his father had moved. In 1829 he was admitted as a counselor in the 
Supreme Court. In 1830, with a view to enlarge his sphere, he moved 
to Buffalo, and there founded the famous firm of Fillmore, Hall and 
Haven. 

At the formation of the Whig party, Fillmore allied himself with 
the movement; with its extinction he, too, went out of politics. In 
1828 he was elected, from Erie County, to the legislature of New 
York, and served for three years. There he laid the foundation of a 
reputation for ability, integrity and conscientious discharge of public 
duties, which remained with him throughout his political career. The 
act abolishing imprisonment for debt was drafted by him, and it "was 
to his strenuous advocacy that the passage of so just and humane an 
act was due. 

In 1832 Fillmore was elected to Congress. Fie did not return in 
1834, but in 1836 he was again elected and continued to sit until 
1842, when he declined a renomination. During his service in Con¬ 
gress, he favored the abolition of the slave trade between states, 
and of slavery in the District of Columbia, and was the author of the 
tariff of 1842. In 1847 he was elected comptroller of the state of 
New York. The following year the Whig party made him its candi¬ 
date for Vice-president, on the ticket with Zachary Taylor. He was 
elected, and was inaugurated on March 4, 1849. As president of the 
Senate during his official term, he was conspicuously successful. His 
moderation, his wisdom, his judgment and his absolute impartiality 
won admiration from all sides. His accession to the presidential 
chair was marked by an absence of all pomp and ceremony. It was 
his wish, owing to the sad circumstance of President Taylor’s death, 
to have the oath administered in the simplest manner, with only the 
bare legal and formal requirements. 

More brilliant men, and men of greater parts, than Millard Fill¬ 
more have filled the post of chief magistrate of this nation, but there 
has been none who administered the office with greater tact and 
moderation, or displayed a greater zeal, fidelity and earnestness in 
the discharge of public duties. He was in the peculiar position of a 
President with a majority hostile to his party, in both branches of 
Congress. As a result, many measures, the enactment of which he 








































































" «■ « * * * ' A « 1 » * * 


o 'o, v* ^ oN 6 */ , » 


'V A *V ' ^ * • » ' ,.* x • „ '.™v A *y ' 


a \'WB * 

^ * « . A * ^0 , 

O * ^ * o, > . o • . s 







V °v VJI,^ • J? % 

• - » , 0 V a'.A O V, ■ * „ , 

<* * * A N * V > B # ^ 


^ t> * „ v <#* 

V ,* A° oKo C. ' 




mm 







N (. 




V -.vw. 

; , 0 ^ c“ 


•■■■,..-■ „ s > 


# *<f, ' 4 ‘ ' s \> .»'»* -o 


<i - 



A **A> r 1 

O. * n . i * >6' <* . ~_S s A 


* • " ‘ 

' * /* <; \ s '" .A, r v0 


i&r N ~ •> w * « &> -i „ o. v • +r*Qy** ' » 

C, 0 ♦_****' ^ 

V AN './■ '-’ * , ' v’l^' ^6 ,A N - 




rf- 


C^_ ** 


•0 N 


* « i 







V, <*> 


, » ,<J- O ’ « r, „ o •’ 

' .AN A * * r '£•_ 

‘ ' ^ *■ -f>, 

0 *f* n &> 
** <& 


I ■. . A ^ VJ 





> *• O n 0 

V> . t * o , ^ ,<V s s 

'/ .V... \ '•"■ ,o^ t .- 

o° »^ **>afobt?+ 

,y* V 







“>* o,^ 

« > ' ° ,s • • ,.%. 0 N 0 v \ V . X * 0 , ^ 1 1 s ■• * • r tt % 

a-Jv' 11 * ' f 0 <A *. . "OC. 


%•<• r I ' V <! 

v /% : >. 

^ '«••'* ^ OAC.^" 

(V c ^ 








V I « 


^ Of ^ 

5 A v * „ e*. *» 
0 > 




a n o 



^T'Vo 1 • \‘*a/V,",\''’ 

11 ^ s s * * r, **c \> -i » e> > Cf v s O 

-- %/ -*'^ fe '' - 

A v *v °. 


V* '<> 


' 5 , y , '■ ^ ^ 

-I- .> ,A N I. <A 



^ o 








